To Reign In Hell
by PoisonComeUndone
Summary: When Castiel abandoned Heaven for Dean, he damned himself to Hell. Now, centuries later, Dean is sent by Heaven to stop a demonic Cas from leading the armies of Hell in another war. this is set around 200 years after The Hardest Part, but can stand alone
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As soon as my stupid class is over(5 more days, woohoo!), I'll actually have time to read some of the awesome stuff that's being posted around here…I'm making myself a list of everything I want to sit down and read as soon as this damn thing is over, and I'll probably be reading for hours, lol

As it is right now, it seems I study, work, go to class, and write at random inappropriate times during any of those three things, because Supernatural in general and specifically Dean/Cas is commanding my attention. *sigh*, lol

So…The Hardest Part was utterly depressing, and weird for me cause I usually love happy endings, especially if I've really screwed the characters over before they get to the happy ending so I was already kinda wishing I could 'fix' the mess I got them in(or at least that I needed to write some fluffy-ness to make up for it, lol), but then there was the thought (from oracle_thunder, thank you so much for the awesome inspiration)suggested of heavenly Dean confronting demonic Cas…and I think that that's incredible, and I started thinking it through…and came up with this, which I realized pretty quickly was not going to be a oneshot but would have to be an actual full on story(though it won't be too long, I don't think. But don't trust me on anything I say on length, lol).

This is not happy by any means, but the eventual ENDING will be happy, promise. :D

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Somehow, time passed differently in Heaven. Dean could remember the way it had passed in hell of course, but those thoughts were distant, and something in the very air in the place seemed to swat the memories out of his head when he tried to pin them down. In Heaven, _something_ wouldn't let him dwell on them. But he did know that down there, it had been years and years longer than it should've, while up here he had totally lost track.

It had been a long time, but at the same time it hadn't been as long as it seemed logically it should have. For instance, it hadn't seemed that long at all before Sam had joined them, though he knew it had to have been because Sam had told him he'd been 75 when he died.

When it came down to it he wasn't sure about the time, but he also really didn't care. Today was either Saturday or Sunday, and depending on who he asked it was summer or it was fall. He saw summer, but Jess had said the trees in the backyard were already changing color. For her, they probably were. Things were different, up here.

Dean leaned back in his chair, reached over with one hand to turn up the radio beside him. It was all 70's and 80's rock, all the time, and it never played a bad song. Not once. Right now, Kansas' Point Of No Return was blaring from the speakers and he smiled, remembering how much he loved the album art for that one. If he bothered to get up and look, he was sure he'd be able to find it laying upstairs in his room now that he'd thought of it.

The front door slammed, and he heard his mother laughing, weakly pretending to protest something he was sure he didn't want to see. When he cocked his head in their direction he couldn't help but laugh, looking quickly away. "Hey, c'mon, I don't wanna go blind over here, alright?"

"Then go inside." John's voice was amused, light in a way Dean hadn't heard on earth since he was 4 years old.

He stood up, rolling his shoulders, reaching down to casually sweep up his beer. "Think I'll go see what Sammy's doin'."

"Wise."

Inside he could hear Jess in the kitchen, humming along with some kind of pop music on the radio as she made dinner. They didn't have to cook, of course, they could've had whatever they wanted, but she enjoyed it so she did the cooking herself when she felt like it. Sam wasn't far, huddled with his laptop on the living room couch, reading.

"You take up too much room, freak." Dean smirked, shoved Sam's legs off in the floor.

Sam let him without looking up, unphased. "Yeah, well, the Impala takes up room in the driveway. Think we should get rid of it, imagine something smaller?"

"Shut up."

Dean reached over to the end table, not at all surprised when the radio materialized under his fingers. It had taken some getting used to, in the beginning, but nothing here shocked him now. He turned it up again, but Sam didn't even wince. He didn't want to hear it, so he couldn't.

Dean shut his eyes, leaned back against the couch and drowned in the music. Now, it was Stairway To Heaven. Fitting. He didn't even look when he heard the door open, grinned anyway. "Much as it makes me want to bleach my brain even sayin' this, I thought you two'd be out there longer."

"Hello, Dean."

His eyes snapped open at that and he sat up quickly, ensuring that he'd heard right. He had. The man that stood in the doorway wore shining armor, almost the same shade of golden as the hair that hung over his deep brown eyes. "Michael." There was more than a little shock in the way he said the word and he shook his head, clearing it a little. "I ah…hey." He wasn't really sure what else to say.

Back in the day, in the time of the apocalypse, they had known each other fairly well. As one of the highest warriors of the Lord and the one who had caged Lucifer before, he had been assigned to fight the war by Dean's side in the hopes that together they could destroy him for good and bring Paradise on earth. That had been the hope, but it hadn't played out quiet like that. They'd been unable to destroy him, but had remained successful nonetheless, caging him in what the heavenly host assured them all was a far more binding entrapment than the 66 seals had been. There had been no paradise, earth returning to earth as it had been. Somehow, Dean had really been a little pleased. Life without pain wouldn't be quiet the same, or so he'd thought at the time. Now…well, his opinion hadn't changed, not really. But that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying life without pain. A hell of a lot.

Michael smiled, though Dean knew him well enough to tell it was forced. "How are you, Dean?"

"Me? Oh, I'm great. Family's great. Jess was just makin' dinner."

"It does me good to see you at peace." His smile turned genuine, for an instant. "But I'm afraid I need to speak with you about something of grave importance."

Dean's eyes cut over to meet Sam's an identical flash of worry in them. "Anything you wanna tell me, we can talk about with my brother."

Michael's eyes bored into him, deadly calm. "it's about Castiel."

And _that_ was the one thing that still had the ability to hurt, the one thought that twisted his chest open if he lingered on it. Usually, he wasn't allowed to think about it very long, and even now he could feel the pain being smoothed over by some unidentifiable presence. He swallowed, looked at Sam again. "Is it time? Is Cas…is he dying?" He wasn't sure how long it had been, but he knew it had been long past when he expected Castiel to join him. For awhile, the pain had been a constant pricking at the back of his mind, recurring as soon as it was soothed away. As time passed, he and Sam had come to believe that Cas was probably still immortal, unable to join them because he was unable to die. Or, as Dean couldn't help but selfishly hope, that his lifespan would be long but not infinite, and one day they would be together again.

Michael looked at Sam, clearly unwilling to include him. "Dean, come speak with me. Please."

Dean ran a hand over his face, nodded. He didn't want to upset Sam, but if this was about Cas…

"Dean, no I-"

"Sammy, wait here." He didn't let him finish, only because he was right. Even though Cas was _his_ lover, he had also been like a brother to Sam, and Sam had been with him 24/7 for almost 50 years. If Dean deserved news about him, Sam did too. Still, Michael clearly didn't feel like sharing and it would be easier to go along now and catch Sam up later than it would be to fight him.

He was barely on his feet and suddenly they were outside, walking on a path he didn't recognize with leaves swirling around their feet. Michael's eyes were straight ahead, focusing on something it seemed only he was seeing. "Forgive me for excluding Sam, but there is much of a personal nature we have to discuss and it did not seem…appropriate to involve him."

"He travelled with the guy for 50 years, how much more personal can you get?"

"You loved him."

Dean's breath caught, head turning away from the bare honesty of the statement. He took a breath, let his words come out quick. "Still do. Always will."

"We know. That's why I was sent to speak with you." Michael looked down, and Dean could see the worry etched into his every feature. "This will not be…easy to hear. Tell me, how much do you know about Castiel?"

Dean laughed, shrugging. "A hell of a lot. Can you be a little more specific? I mean, I lived with the guy for three years and we were together longer than that, so yeah, I'd say I know him pretty damn well. What's this about, is Cas in some kind of trouble?" He felt fear at the thought, and he realized with a shock that for the first time in he had no idea _how_ long, he was actually feeling every emotion. Whatever this was about, Michael wanted him totally clear headed. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

"He's…." Michael paused, cocked his head. "Another question, perhaps. What did he tell you when he went with you the night you left to go to Sam, the night Lucifer was released?"

It was a long time ago, but that night had been an important one. "Not much. He came back with Ruby's knife, banished Zachariah, then told me we needed to go to Chuck because he'd know where Sam was. He stayed to hold off the archangel, met up with us later than night and angeled us back to the panic room at Bobby's, told me he'd made his choice and he was stayin' with me." He could feel the bittersweet warmth that accompanied the memory, the moment clear in his mind. They had been bringing in weapons out of the Impala when Cas had told him. He could still hear the words the way they'd sounded, low and rough and honest, still feel the way Castiel had felt against him when he'd pushed him back against the car, the way he'd whimpered when Dean kissed him, clutched at him like a drowning man. It hadn't been their first kiss by any means, but it had meant something different, something more real and permanent than the ones before it.

Michael nodded, understanding. "I see. There is much he kept from you, Dean, as I suspected."

Dean could feel panic, fear, hurt, a dozen things all at once. After years without them, the onslaught of the emotions was dizzying. "What are you saying? What happened that night; did he kill that archangel to protect us or something?"

"No, he killed no one that night. It's more the decision he made, one that set him on the path he is on now." They were in a clearing, now, and Michael stopped, leaning back gracefully against a fallen tree. "You see, we are different from you in so many ways. We were His first children, but He had you in mind even then. His love for you truly is an overwhelming thing." He paused, smiling at the thought. "You were created with free will, a beautiful, double-edged sword of a gift. You can choose to go against His will for you, if you like. We have no such luxuries. It's not like Anna told you, really, but I'm sure Castiel told you that much. We are not forbidden love or hate or any other emotion, what we _are_ forbidden to do is let them get in the way. If he had loved you and kept doing his duty, nothing would changed. But Our Father is unfailingly fair, and if our kind wishes to take free will, though we have not been given it, we can. But if they take it, they have to be willing to accept the price as well."

"So you just…you kicked him out, is that it? That's why he can't come back?" He felt cold saying it, the words thick and heavy.

Michael's eyes were kind, but the worry still hadn't left them. "It's more than that, and I think you know it. The deserters, the original ones, they went with Lucifer in the fall. And those that desert since then, no matter their reason…they are fated to join the damned."

Rage took him off guard and he turned, slammed his fist into the nearest tree. It hurt but he couldn't bleed, and for that he hated this place. He hit it again, watched the bark crumble only to reform before his eyes. He fell against the trunk on one arm, chest heaving, and the tear that rolled down his cheek wasn't really a shock. "He knew, didn't he? He had to have."

"Yes. Castiel knew exactly what he was doing. I suspect he kept the truth from you because he knew you would blame yourself."

"I shouldn't have…I wouldn't have asked him to come, if I'd known, I wouldn't've-"

"He would have made the choice anyway. He was already considering it." Michael's voice came closer, but Dean wouldn't open his eyes. "He loved you, Dean. He wasn't sorry for what he did."

"How the hell could he be so stupid! After pulling me outta that place, everything he saw…" The thought of his angel in hell overtook him, and he could feel a scream clawing at the back of his throat. "It wasn't worth that."

"It wasn't? From what I know of you, wouldn't you have done it, to be with him?"

Yes. God, yes, he would've done it in a heartbeat. "That's different. I wasn't…I had already been there. I didn't have as much to lose."

"Of course you did. Anyone throwing their soul into the Pit has everything to lose, Dean, there are no shades of horror on that one. It is all horrible, and it is all a great price to pay. All that you're really saying is that _you_ weren't worth it, isn't that it?"

His arm shook, tears flowing more freely. He could remember pain like this, before. Losing Sammy, losing dad, realizing the sacrifice his father had made…he had thought nothing else would ever be this crushing again. "He lied." His voice was whisper soft, broken.

"When?"

"He told me we'd…" He couldn't get it out, his throat closing up around the words. "He lied."

"He lied to protect you, Dean, to keep from hurting you. Because he loved you. I know you've done the same."

Dean's body shuddered, his hands clenching. "Why the hell are you tellin' me all this?"

"It isn't just to hurt you, Dean." Dean raised his head, did his best to force the pain under some kind of control. It was easier every minute, even though it had been so long he'd almost forgotten what it was to _really_ hurt. "There is a…situation." Michael paced, hands clasped and against his lips as he thought, almost as if in prayer. "I know you've probably lost track of time, most souls here do, but it has been many years you have been here, 150 years since Castiel's death alone." He took a deep breath, his eyes burning with ancient sadness. "And it has been 18,000 years, in hell." He looked pained, saying it. As if the words themselves were tearing him apart. "Do you understand what I'm saying? What happens there, over that length of time?"

He did. God help him, he did. "No." He was shaking his head, slow and deliberate and a little desperate. "No, no that can't be. He can't…he wouldn't, he'd never-"

"He is. I'm sorry."

The images shoved themselves into his mind, brutal and invasive. Cas on the rack, bloody and screaming. Cas with the blade in his hands, carving up a nameless soul. Cas with black eyes… "_No_! No, dammit, he's stronger than me, he was always stronger than me or dad or-"

"Strength has little to do with it. He held out on the rack, Dean, for 321 years. Remarkable by anyone's standards, but even so that doesn't matter now." His eyes were dark, knowing. "There are few angels that become demons, as you can imagine. Lucifer, the first and the strongest. Azazel was another, and you knew of his strength firsthand. There were others, though most of them died in the last war, the one _you_ helped win. There are a few still, but they are all old, old enough to have gone by choice, with Lucifer in the beginning. For an angel to be twisted, forged into a demon the way human souls are…it isn't easy. It's happened before, though at the present time there is only one alive. Castiel."

Hearing it like that sent a jolt through his heart that was actually strong enough to make him gasp, his nails digging into the bark of the tree. Castiel. A demon. It wasn't possible, it wasn't, it could never be, and his head was pounding with the discrepancy.

"I know that hearing this is hard, and I'm sorry to put you through it, but there's more."

He whirled to face the archangel, fury feeding off his pain. "More? How the _fuck_ can there be _more_, Michael? You're telling me something's worse than this? Cause I gotta tell you, it can't get worse than hearing that he…" He swallowed, shook his head. "How can you _possibly_ have something worse?"

Michael sighed, thumb sliding absently over the ruby in the hilt of his sword. "There is a prophesy that-"

"There's always a goddamn prophesy, isn't there?"

"Watch your language, Dean, please. You know I'm not as tolerant of it as he was."

The words were clipped, annoyed, but Dean didn't care. He had no right to mention Cas, not now, not after everything he'd just said. Dean charged him, one solid punch connecting against the archangel's jaw before he was thrown back, landing flat on his back in the leaves a good 6 feet away with the breath knocked out of him and his fingers throbbing.

For a moment they stared each other down, Dean's gaze belligerent and Michael's warning. He turned a little away, resumed his story as if nothing had happened. "Do you really think there have been no prophets since your time? Are you that narrow minded?" He shook his head once, continued. "There _is_ a prophecy, and it speaks of this. You remember, of course, the way we contained Lucifer. The lock that we thought could never be broken."

The realization hit him with the force of a truck to the chest, and Dean sat up, his head falling into his hands. "An angel has to open the door."

"Yes. But the war itself isn't the entire problem, not exactly. We've been fighting this battle since the dawn of time, and as you realized when we allowed the seals to be broken, there are times we wish to bring it on in the hope of ending. It isn't just Lucifer's rise we have to fear here, however." His eyes met Dean's, his expression unreadable. "Only an angel can kill an angel, and he is an abomination with the blood of both. He could kill us, many of us, and the prophecy says that he will. And with our numbers decimated, he will release Lucifer and the forces of Hell will gain control of the earth."

"Jesus." Dean didn't even bother trying to hold the blasphemy in, wasn't exactly surprised to feel a wince of pain as the air crackled with Michael's anger. He didn't care. "If you knew all of this before, why didn't you-"

"We didn't. The Lord knows all, but we are allowed only select information at a time. We did not know until the prophets wrote of it, and from the moment they did we have known this day would come."

Dean turned his head, already exhausted under the emotional strain. His life had been screwed to hell, once, and now he was remembering just how dark that felt. "Why did you need to tell me this, huh? Isn't the whole point of this place getting away from all of that? I could've…I could've been happy forever not knowin' this." There had been pain waiting on Cas, hoping to see him again but that had been pushed away by Heaven itself, the moments it actually hurt few and far between. At its worst, it had been nothing close to this.

"We need your help again, Dean. I'm sorry, I know you thought you were finished, but we must ask this of you."

Dean met his gaze, wary. "Ask what?"

From the pouch he wore on his belt Michael drew something Dean could recognized even if it had been millennia since he'd seen it, and Dean was on his feet before it was even all the way in the open.

"No. Hell no. I refuse, I don't care where you send me. You put that away and you find someone else." His voice shook as he said it, breath quickening as he leapt to his feet. They could send him to hell if they wanted, but there were things they could never make him do. No matter what Cas had done.

Michael stroked the Colt, his touch almost loving. "Do you think there aren't hunters I could have given this to, hm? There are; three or four of them in fact that might have been up to the task. And they would have taken this gun and not hesitated to put a bullet in him, or died trying." He looked up, his eyes blazing. "And I still believe that to be the correct course of action, but my opinion does not matter. I obey my Father. And the orders I have received command that I send you."

"Well you can tell them I don't give a shit what you want." He stepped forward, anger strengthening him. "I won't do this. Not for anything, not even to stay here. Do you understand?"

"You haven't even let me tell you just what it is I am to send you to do, Dean. Sending you back just to pull a trigger would be waste, as I've explained. You shouldn't be arrogant enough to think you're the only hunter capable of firing a well aimed shot."

Dean held his tongue, let him speak and didn't dare to hope.

"Whatever you may have come to believe, God is merciful above all else. And He wishes that every effort be made to…reclaim our own."

Dean's jaw clenched, held back several things he wanted to say. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, redemption. Forgiveness, should he turn around. Our Father wishes him to be the ultimate symbol of redemption, a…mark, a testament to Heaven's forgiveness and love." Michael tilted his head, conceding a point. "And though I disagree it _is_ written that if he could be turned, it could turn the tide. Rejuvinate faith in God among the host, even among men. Enough that we may win this war, for good. Either way, I must agree that the tactical advantage in having one that knew their plans would be unparalleled."

"Yeah, well, excuse me for not believe you, but I've heard that before. Back when I was told it was my _destiny_ to kill Lucifer and usher in paradise on earth. So at this point I think your save-the-world prophesies are all crap, personally."

"Nothing is quiet written in stone, Dean. The prophesies cannot be broken but there is…leniency in which direction they flow. This war has been fought over and over for millennia, and each and every time we have hoped for an end. You should understand, Dean. In the same way that man must have faith in God, God must have faith in man, and in us. He can see the larger picture, but it is in _our_ hands when it ends. And He must know that someday, it will. But He has to let us do it. On our own."

"You know an awful lot about what He wants, but from what I hear your superiors-"

"I have no superior but my Father." Michael smiled, and for a moment he looked like a benevolent angel instead of a warrior. "Did I never tell you before? I have spoken with Him. Many times. And it is from that source that this order comes, and no other. He believes if there is any hope of redeeming Castiel, it will have to be through you. You are to go to him, do your best to reach him. But this is a _chance_, Dean, and a very slim one." He held the Colt out meaningfully, and Dean resisted the urge to flinch. "If you fail, _my_ orders take precedence. If he cannot be turned, he must be destroyed. You must be willing to do this."

"No." It came out rough, raw emotion he wasn't even trying to hide. "No. I had this laid on me once before, I won't do it again."

"You didn't do it before. You let Sam continue, all the way through breaking the last of the seals. If you had killed him when you probably should have, that never would have happened."

"But look at him! He made it! He's still Sam. I was not about to give up on him, and I'm not givin' up on Cas either." He took a breath, the familiar nickname twisting his heart painfully. "I can't. I won't. So I'll go down there and I'll bring him back. But that's it. I'm not takin' the Colt."

"If you fail-"

"God wants me to save him, and I'll save him. I swear it." There was no other choice. Having to see Castiel as a demon was going to be hard enough, but he could stomach it if he was going to save him. That was the only way it could possibly be bearable, and he couldn't even begin to consider what might happen if he failed.

"Do you think this is _easy_ for me to ask, Dean? Castiel was a friend to me for more years than you can possibly imagine. No matter what he did, I would never have wanted to be ordering his death. But one thing I know…he would not have wanted to end up like this. And you know it too." The Colt was still held out, expectant. "He wouldn't have wanted to live like this, Dean. You know it. If you love him, you _will_ be willing to do what must be done."

He didn't want to hear it, could hardly bear to hear it, but he knew Michael was right. The last thing Castiel would have ever wanted was to hurt anyone, much less to become a ring leader in hell's wolrd domination plans. If…If there was _nothing _else…

Slowly, Dean reached out, his very soul shuddering as his fingertips brushed the wood of the grip. His fingers closed carefully around it, and he felt Michael let go, the weight resting in his hand.

"I knew you would understand."

Dean's eyes hardened, his hand whipping back quick to slide the gun in the waistband of his jeans, out of sight. Even then, the cold metal of the barrel against his back was impossible to ignore. It was there, and there would be no pretending it wasn't. "All I understand is that you wouldn't let me outta here unless I took the damn thing, but that does _not_ mean I'm gonna use it."

There was sympathy, almost pity in Michael's eyes. "You don't understand, Dean, and you won't until you see him, but it's not as if you can walk up to him, tell him you love him, and break some sort of spell. It isn't like that. He won't remember you, Dean. He won't even know your name much less what the two of you had. It'll be buried deep, so deep it would take a lot of hard work to make him remember, and I doubt you'll have a chance to take the kind of time that would need. In all honesty I don't even believe this is possible, and I think it would be kinder if we had left you alone. However, my orders are my orders. I do as I'm told."

Dean held his head up, determined. "Oh he'll remember me. I can get through to him."

"Don't be so sure. You don't know what he's like, now. He's a monster."

He chose to ignore that, shoved the thought away. "When I bring him back, this is over? It's done, I come back here and he gets to come with me?"

"If he can be recovered, yes, when this crisis has been averted he will be able to return with you." Michael held a hand up, stopping any further words. "But that is unlikely, Dean. I wouldn't hope."

"I want to see Sam, before I leave."

"He'll only want to come with you. If you want that I'm sure it can be arranged but-"

"No." Of course he wanted it. There hadn't been a moment in his life since the day that kid was born that he hadn't wanted him right by his side, but this wasn't really about what he wanted. He tried to make sure it was always what was best for Sam that won out, not what was best for himself. As much as he didn't want to face this alone, he wasn't about to put Sam through it. "No, I'm doin' this one alone. But I _will_ see him first, understand?"

Michael hesitated before relenting, a single nod. "As you wish. When you're done you'll be transported to the town we expect he's travelling to; they have been demonic omens for the past week."

The thought of Cas being associated with demonic omens was somehow another level of real, and he could feel tears pricking at his eyes again, muscles aching with the urge to beat the shit of something, anything. "I want this body, down there. I need to look the same." More to the point, he needed to keep his scar. The one Cas had given him, the one remaining from the first time Castiel had saved his life.

Michael nodded, agreeing. "An understandable request. But Dean?" Their eyes lock, Michael's radiating sorrow. "Don't expect to succeed. I say this only for your own good. _He will not know you_, and he will almost certainly try to kill you."

Dean looked away, his jaw clenched hard. "Take me to Sam."

The scenery changed into his own living room right before his eyes, and he wasn't surprised to find Sam sitting on the edge of the couch, his eyes wide and expectant.

"Dean!"

"Hey, Sammy." Dean smiled, tugged his shirt down just a little farther, casually. He had to be sure the Colt was well hidden from view.

"What was that about? Is Cas alright?"

He shrugged, fought the clamoring in his chest that urged him to tell his little brother everything. That would only make him feel better, not Sam. "He will be. But he's gotten himself into a little trouble, so they're sending me down to straighten him out. Shouldn't take long, then I'll be back ok?"

Sam was on his feet then, eyes bright and earnest. "Let me come with you. Whatever it is, if he's in trouble I'm sure you're gonna need my help."

"Yeah, me too, but you know how these angel guys are…orders and all. I have to go alone." The familiar sickening pain associated with lying to Sam settled into his gut. "It'll be ok, promise. I'll be back real soon." He jerked his head toward the front door, motioning. "Hey, let them know where I've gone when they get back, ok? Don't want anyone worrying." As if they could for long, in this place.

"But Dean-"

"Hey." Dean stepped forward enough to clap a hand on Sam's shoulder, putting on the best calm face he could manage for his brother's sake. "it's fine, ok? Just…wait for me." He could see the fear in Sam's eyes, enough that it was shining through even under what he knew had to be repeated attempts to wash it away. "I'm not leavin' you, Sammy. I'll be back."

Sam swallowed, nodded, let his hand rest on Dean's arm for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah ok. Look, tell him…tell him I wish-"

"I will, don't worry." Dean stepped back, ready. "Seriously, Sam, don't worry about it dude. I'll be back before you know it." Here, that was at least slightly true. However long it was, it wouldn't seem nearly as long to Sam.

In the blink of an eye, before Sam could even answer, he was gone.

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A/N: So…there's the set up to how things are gonna go from here. Had to cram a lot of information in there, and I had to make some shit up as believably as I could in order to fit where I need to go with this, so I hope it all fit together and made some kind of sense, lol

Next chapter will be where things really start to get interesting, and unfortunately I won't have time to write that for a few days considering the four tests I have this week. *squeaks* but, soon.

This is really weird and totally out there, I know, so everyone let me know what you think! ^^


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the _amazing_ reviews! Best encouragement ever. :D I'm so glad everyone's enjoying this so far, and I hope this chapter keeps you hooked. (and thanks so much to everyone who wished me luck on the test! First one down, three more to go…one tomorrow that I should've been studying for tonight, but I started working on this and kept saying "just 15 more minutes….just 15 more minutes…" LOL)

Anyone who actually lives in/near any of the places mentioned, please forgive any inaccuracies…internet research is my friend and I did the best I could, but if I couldn't find a picture/map I had to just wing it, lol

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The sudden change in surroundings was disorienting, even though he was expecting it. One moment he was standing in the replica of his childhood home that he'd lived in for decades now, the next he was standing next to a tiny black four door outside what looked like a rundown motel, keys in his hand. He blinked, let out a harsh laugh. "Michael, wouldn't have thought you'd be cheap, buddy." He turned, ran a hand hesitantly over the car beside him. "And this? C'mon, I wouldn't be caught dead drivin' this."

He slid the keys into his pocket, felt around to see what else he might've acquired. A room card, three credit cards, and a 20 dollar bill, total. Not much, but certainly more than he needed. Sliding the keys out again he opened the car, slid in and popped open the glove box, rifling around. There were few papers, license and registration on top and all the interesting ones underneath. Two maps with weather patterns informing him he was in Freedom, Oklahoma…and judging by the rings of storms and what he remembered from tracking Azazel, a demon with considerable power was days if not hours away.

He struggled with the knowledge, swallowing once before shoving the papers roughly back into the glove box, slamming it shut. He knew enough, and he wouldn't be looking at them again. He slid out of the front seat, walked the very, very short distance to the trunk, ready to pop it open. He paused, his eyes lingering over the back of the car. "Oh, they've gotta be freakin' kiddin' me with this shit." The word _Impala_ was there, shining at him in bright chrome. He snorted a laugh under his breath, beat the trunk once with his fist. "This?" On reflex he looked up, aiming his words at an archangel that probably wasn't even listening. "This isn't funny, alright? And it sure as _hell_ is not an Impala." Cars had been declining, shrinking even in his own time, but to call _this_ tiny speck of metal an Impala? Chevy had caved hard. A quick scan around the parking lot revealed what he'd feared, a lot of almost identical cars, all different makes and models largely in name only. He sighed, hit the trunk again. "Son of a bitch."

He slid the key in, wrenched the trunk up angrily and felt around on the floor of it, finding the tab he'd expected. Another quick look over both his shoulders told him no one was around to see, and he hoisted the false bottom up just enough for a quick glance. He was definitely well stocked, so he could at least thank the angel for that. Guns, salt, and what looked like enough holy water to keep off a pack of demons for a few hours.

Satisfied, he slide the mat back into place, grabbing the duffel bag that had been on top of it as he did. The edge of something banged into his shoulder when he lifted it, and when he unzipped the bag he found a shiny, paper thin laptop. He smirked a little, threw the bag back over his shoulder. When he got back, he was gonna have to brag to Sam about the crazy ass future computer.

Once he reached his room on the second floor he threw his things down on the bed farthest from the window, stubbornly refusing to be bothered by the fact that the other one was going to remain empty. He'd made his choice to come alone, but he hadn't really thought about how damn _lonely _that'd be until now.

He sat back against the headboard, slung his legs up onto the bed with his boots still on. He still didn't really have any solid information, and he could only hope the computer came stocked with something a little more helpful. Such as what the hell Cas was even after. The thought brought an increasingly familiar pain to his chest and he shoved it down, pulled the computer into his lap and pushed the screen up. Around the keyboard was all shiny metal, a fingerprint reader in place of a power switch. He laughed once, swiped his fingerprint. "Damn, Sammy, you really should see this, dude." The words echoed in the empty room but somehow he didn't feel stupid. He'd talked to Sam before, when he was at Stanford. He wasn't crazy, really. After all, everyone alive talked to themselves sometimes and with the way they were, this was no different, really.

"Welcome, Dean." The voice from the computer startled the hell out of him, and he resisted the urge to shove it away.

"Jesus. I hate friggin computers." He leaned in, swiped a finger across the pad in an experimental arc. He didn't recognize any of the icons, but he slid the mouse to the bottom and just to the right of the what he thought was the menu button, picking something he _hoped_ was the internet. If dives had had wireless even back in his time, they were sure to have it now. His first guess was wrong but his second was right, and the internet came up in a flash. The page Michael had set for him was exactly where he'd wanted to go, and research on his own would have taken him much longer to find it. He pulled the computer just a little closer, tilted the screen just right to read it best, focusing on the first headline:

_10 dead in cave collapse_

He skimmed the story, dread settling in his stomach as he did. There were other links, bookmarked, and he checked all five of them. Four included other cave deaths, one a disappearance of a man he tried not to think might now be a host. He sighed, shoved the computer off his lap and onto the bed.

"Well he goddamn well knows something." He brought a hand up to cover his eyes, shutting them against the memory.

_Dean leaned hard against the rock wall, still struggling a little for breath after the long climb in to this uncharted area of the system. "So that's it, then. We're givin' up."_

_Michael glared over his shoulder, pausing in the midst of melding iron rails into the cave floor. "A year of fighting Lucifer is hardly 'giving up', Dean. We're simply getting the situation back under control before he does any more damage."_

_Dean pushed off of the wall, winced when the action sent a shot of pain through his arm. "Yeah, well I call it like I see it. And we've screwed up, plain and simple. He's __**got**__ the knife, we've got the Colt but haven't been able to nail him with it, you've got your flaming sword of God over there and still we don't have shit to show for it." He pressed a hand to his arm, a little surprised to still feel blood seeping up from it. The wounds Lucifer gave never healed well, but this was getting a little bit ridiculous. It had been over 24 hours since their last encounter with him, just north of Versailles, Missouri. The slice he'd managed to get from the devil's sword had bled slowly but steadily ever since. _

"_Dean, I wish you would-"_

"_Oh do you __**really**__ give a crap about my language right now, huh? We're about to try take him alive which, call me crazy, but that sounds a hell of a lot harder than just wasting the guy. So I think you've got some bigger problems to worry about then whether or not I pass your holy test." He had waved his arm around a little, in his frustration, and he took a sharp breath at the pain that pierced it in the aftermath, fresh blood soaking through his sleeve. _

"_Dean." Cas stepped out of the shadows, coming up close beside him to press a gentle hand over his wound. "Rest. This one is worrying me; it could be serious." _

_Dean shrugged, an act he regretted almost immediately. " 'S not bad. Besides, I can't 'rest'; I gotta be up and ready. Sammy's standing guard, and I need to go help him. Soon as he starts comin', we're gonna need all of us." _

_Castiel licked his lips, moved just a little closer. "I would…rather you sat this one out. You don't look good, Dean, and I-"_

"_I appreciate the concern, really, but no way. No way in hell. You guys aren't doin' this without me." Dean looked up then, and the worry and love in the angel's eyes nearly took his breath away. He cut his eyes to the side, saw Michael etching Aramaic into the walls. Turning just enough to block them a little bit from sight, he leaned in and kissed Castiel quickly, pulling away much sooner than he'd have liked. "We do this together, huh? I'll be fine; you can fuss over me later." _

"_Can I hold you to that?"_

"_No, actually. That was more of a pacifying promise than an actual promise. Only chicks need people to hover."_

"_Right. Well, either Sam or I is re-bandaging that before this begins. Keep that in mind." There was worry in his voice, and a hint of the old command he'd had back when he was still following orders. Dean barely jerked his head, conceding the point. _

_As he pulled away to return to Michael's side Castiel's fingers brushed over his arm, and though it actually hurt more than it helped, Dean didn't care. "So…" He gestured with his other hand at the circles of Latin, Aramaic, and angel sigils he didn't recognize encircling a deep pit in the floor. "What's the plan? That's gonna hold him?"_

_Michael nodded grimly, pulled a knife from his belt just enough to let Dean see the glimmer. "When Castiel and I seal it with our blood, it will." _

It hadn't been easy, but they'd done it. They'd locked Lucifer into a cell in the back tunnels off Jacob's Cave, Michael and Castiel slicing their arms open and bleeding onto the seal. Whatever Castiel did or didn't remember, it seemed he remembered this. Pulling the computer back in front of him Dean clicked a search bar near the top, typed in 'caves near freedom oklahoma'.

It was there three links down. Alabaster Caverns State Park. A few minutes reading told him everything he needed to know. The cave system was large, the main cave alone ¾ of a mile long. The place was only 6 miles south of Freedom. Whenever Cas was going to arrive, he had a pretty good idea now of where he was headed.

Finished, he shut the computer and stood up, going to his bag to rifle through it. The Colt was there on top, and he swore under his breath and shoved it under his clothes. One of his first orders of business needed to be finding somewhere secure to keep that thing. He certainly wasn't going to be carrying it.

If Cas remembered locking Lucifer in the cave, then surely it wouldn't be that hard to make him remember everything else. He wasn't sure how to do that though, really. Honestly, he had no clue where to start. He could try _telling_ him everything, but he had never exactly been good with words and besides that, Michael was right…there wasn't much chance Cas'd be willing to stand there and listen. _Or even give a shit, if he did_. He sighed, frustrated. "Couldn't possible give me some help here, could you? You..you want me talkin' to him, how's that even gonna work? What can I possibly tell him that he…" He trailed off, realizing he was almost praying. If he'd heard it years before, Cas would've been pleased.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

He waited until after dark to head out, exchanging the Colt for a smaller gun from the trunk. He slid into the drivers seat a little reluctantly, shaking his head. "Whatever you are, you're a sorry ass excuse for a car."

"If you'd rather, I could've given you plane tickets."

Dean managed not to jump, though his hands tightened hard around the steering wheel. "I really think all of you get some kind of sick pleasure out of doing that."

"On the contrary, we simply forget it bothers you. We can hear each other coming, after all."

"Yeah, well, I can sorta hear the wings sometimes if you don't come outta freakin' nowhere like that." He cleared his throat, shifted the wheel to one hand and glanced over at Michael. "So ah…is he gonna be there, tonight? I wasn't sure, the omens-"

"Yes. He will be there. He already is." Dean repressed a shudder, fought the urge to look at Michael though he could feel his eyes boring into him. "And he isn't alone. But are you sure you're ready for this, Dean? If you aren't, you don't have to face him tonight. "

"No. I'm goin'."

"I know you have no plan, Dean. You have no idea what you're doing beyond your desire to see Castiel, and I came to tell you that is…not wise." He sighed, soft. "We were friends once, you and I, to an extent at least."

"Yeah. We were." That much at least was true. It wasn't really possible to fight shoulder to shoulder with a guy for most of the apocalypse and not come out of it as friends, unless the other guy was a complete dick. And for all of his problems, Michael wasn't a complete dick. Well, never intentionally anyway.

"I can feel your soul, Dean, your desire to see him, and I know you won't believe me, but I _do_ understand it. Even so, you shouldn't walk into this the way you are now."

Dean scoffed, switched hands on the wheel. "Yeah? And how's that?"

"Hopeful. Desperate." His voice softened, pained. "Still in love."

"God, could you sound anymore like a Hallmark commercial?"

"Brush it off all you want, Dean, you know it's true. And there's nothing wrong with it, theoretically. It is only right; God designed man to love fiercely, but in this case, you're going to rush into something far over your head. And it's going to hurt much more than you think."

"Think I know what I'm doin', thanks. I've fought demons before."

"You've never fought _him_."

Dean jerked the car into the turn, pulling into the empty Alabaster Caverns parking lot and shutting the car off quick. He turned to glare at Michael, cold. "Look, can we be done with this? I was sent here to save him, and I can hardly do that if I don't ever face him. I'm not sayin' I think this is gonna be easy, cause really, Michael, I'm not a frickin' idiot. I'm not." He looked away, rubbed at a spot on the steering wheel. "I know this is gonna suck. And I'm not gonna say I don't still care about Cas, and maybe that's not healthy or even safe, but it's also the reason I'm here. And besides, I couldn't stop it if I tried. So stop micromanaging and hovering and let me do my goddamn job."

Before he could even take a breath, Michael was gone. Dean laughed once, harsh. "Yeah, should've known you'd do that." Ready, he slid out of the car and slammed the door, absently checking the lock. He had a gun in the waistband of his jeans and a flask of holy water in his jacket pocket, but he didn't plan on using either. The gun was really totally useless anyway. He rolled his shoulders, tried to slip into the right frame of mind. _C'mon, you're hunting. This is just another hunt._

It was impossible to think of it that way, and after about 2 seconds he stopped trying. He started walking, heading down the road past the welcome center and down the hill toward the cave entrance. The cave itself was gated off but he scaled the fence pretty easily, glad to see that his time away from earth hadn't impacted his ability to do his job. He pulled his flashlight from a jacket pocket, flicking it on and aiming down the stairs and into the cave entrance. It was wider than he'd expected, broad steps leading down inside. He could feel his adrenaline spiking, his nerves already on edge and he wasn't even inside. _Calm the fuck down, Dean. Just go._

He took the steps quietly, listening intently as he did for any noise from up ahead. Nothing, yet. He followed the passage, and despite his constant stream of God-you're-being-ridiculous thoughts, he couldn't seem to be any less on edge. This _wasn't_ a normal job, and there was no way he was going to be able to trick himself into feeling like it was.

A sound sifted back toward him, finally, and even though it was probably nothing more than water or a rock or a bat or something, he switched off his light, pressed himself up against the cave wall. He held his breath, listening, and realized that he hadn't been crazy. A few minutes with the light of told him there was _definitely_ a little bit of light coming from somewhere up ahead…and that if he strained he heard something that could've been a voice. He moved forward again, achingly slow as he crept forward against the wall, willing himself not to trip or kick a rock. The slow progress was annoying as fuck, but after what seemed like the longest walk of his life he was edging up on a cavern, light shining back into the passage. To the side of the passage opening there was some kind of rock formation-something mite or tite, Sam had always known the difference-and he crouched down behind it, hoping it'd hide him well enough that he could get a good look.

"I can feel his presence nowhere, there's no need to search further." There was a muffled sound of rock cracking, and Dean edged into position, peering between two columns. "We've checked out several dead ends already, you know. Are you sure about your information?" The one that spoke had his back to Dean, one hand up against the cave wall, running over it absently.

"Of course I'm sure." The second voice was annoyed, sharp, and it came from a tall blond man kneeling over an electric lantern, eyes scanning the floor. "I have it from a very reliable source. Look, you know there are millions of caves all over the earth, and he could be in any one of them. But it's not as if we're in a real hurry. I mean, there's still things you need to take care of first. We want the way clear before his arrival." The man looked at his companion, questioning. "Right?"

"Of course. Yes." The other man turned, drug his fingers through his black hair. "This is simply…frustrating."

Dean dug his nails into his hand, tried to keep from hyperventilating. He wasn't sure, he knew nothing, really, but there had been something so oddly proper about the way the last one had spoken…

"You're telling me. Don't forget, Castiel, I've been fighting for our master since before you ever came to us."

Dean's body shudder, his eyes locking onto the man he'd suspected a moment before.

He scowled, stalked over to drop into a crouch beside the lantern. "How could I forget? You taught me everything I know." God help him, Dean could hear it now in the roughness of his voice, the jagged edge that had been different from Jimmy's voice but so clearly Castiel's. He could see it, even in this body, the way he tilted his head at just the right angle as he looked at the man beside him. He could see Castiel in him, and he could feel an accompanying scream pounding at his throat.

The other man grinned, wicked, one hand sliding through Castiel's hair and down to the nape of his neck, his movements far too sensual to be casual. "I did. And you were such a good student there's little more I can teach you, if anything. This, we do together. And Lucifer will reward us both."

Castiel smirked, nodded. "So, Macchion…our next lead, where is it?"

Macchion leaned back, sat down and rested back on outstretched arms. "There's a hunter not far from here, or so I hear. It's probably a mostly worthless trip, but on the off chance that they did have a lead it'd be more than we have now. And, if nothing else, another dead hunter can only help us."

"It will break the monotony, at least. But this one's mine; I've let you take the last two."

"By all means."

Dean leaned his head carefully against the rock, dizzy and sick and something else that combined the two and went beyond. He could remember feeling like this only three times in life, and each one stood out in perfect clarity. The first had been when he saw the tape of Sam killing that hunter, before he'd known he was possessed. The second had come standing over Sam, watching him drink the blood of a pinned demon. The third had been during the fight they'd had, the moment he'd heard Sam shut the door behind him. He felt like that now, and he wasn't sure he even had the strength to stand.

"Shh…listen." Macchion stood up suddenly, his back going rigid. Dean stopped breathing, though he couldn't tame his racing pulse. Still, the demon was looking in the opposite direction, toward the passageway across the cavern in the direction of the continuation of the tunnels. "There's someone down there." He held a hand out, stopping Castiel before he could move. "Probably just a night watchmen; I'll take care of it."

He was gone, disappearing into the dark, leaving Castiel sitting by the lamp. Dean stared, horrified but transfixed. Even now, in another body-_a stolen body, Dean-_and twisted to hell as he was, somehow, he was still too fuckin' beautiful. Maybe it was angels, somehow, because Lucifer had always been pretty gorgeous himself, no matter whose body he stole. Or maybe it was just a preference, angel's went after pretty ones. Either way, there was no denying that even now he looked like a fucking god. He was a little taller than before though still average height, nothing like Sam. His skin was tan, almost brown from sun even though a glance at a calendar earlier had told Dean it was October. He was looking at the lantern, now, and the light cast over his face in the just the perfect way, glinting off eyes partially hidden by bangs that were just long enough to reach them. He was a masterpiece, and power hummed off of him in a way Dean could practically feel from across the room.

Dean licked his lips nervously, tightened his hands against the rock. He had come here knowing it was crazy, knowing that if he was going to say or do anything, it would have to be crazy. There was no good or sane way to start this, really, because there was no intelligent way to just waltz up and talk to a demon. Still, he hadn't come thinking he'd be safe. He was infinitely glad, just then, that Sam wasn't there. More than that, that his dad and Bobby couldn't see him now.

_Boy, this is the most bat shit crazy thing you've ever done. _

He could hear it in Bobby's voice in his head, and if not for the situation he might've laughed. One of these days, he'd have to tell Bobby that he'd become his voice of reason. Reason that he was promptly going to ignore, of course. Without thinking it through anymore he bit the bullet, pushed himself to his feet and took a step into the cavern.

It happened quicker than he'd expected, quicker than he could even blink much less see Cas move. He was slammed into the wall with the force of a semi, invisible pressure pinning him with near bone crushing strength to the cave wall.

Castiel advanced on him, one arm held out, his eyes dark and dangerous. "You should not have been prowling around down here at night, you know. Unsafe, these caves." He smirked a little, and the pressure increased. Dean felt like his lungs were being pinned between his ribs, and he gasped just a little, forcing air into them.

He swallowed nervously, sickly, and said the only thing he could. "Hey…Cas." It sounded all wrong, _felt_ all wrong, because as much as there were quirks he could identify, this wasn't his angel. It was and wasn't Cas all at once and even though he'd only been around him minutes, he was already losing his mind.

A fresh surge of power pushed on him, enough that he could feel every ridge and dip of the stone behind him. "What do you know of me, human?" His eyes flickered, landed on the amulet Dean wore. "Ah, hunter? That's what you are, isn't it?" He cocked his head, and the sick similarity had Dean biting his tongue until he tasted blood. "Usually, they're smarter. You must be very inexperienced. Or simply very foolish."

Dean shut his eyes, forced himself to keep talking. "Neither. Been hunting all my life. I'm just here to see you." And God it sounded stupid, but what else could he say? What else was there to say, except to cut right to the truth? "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester." He snapped his eyes opened, steeled his nerve to meet the demon's gaze. "And you were the angel Castiel. You _are_ Castiel. And you _know_ me. At least, you did."

Laughter cut into the air then and both their heads jerked to its source. Macchion was walking slow across the cavern, shaking his head. "I would have bet a thousand souls I'd _never_ see this. But how _happy_ I would've been to be wrong." He laughed again, loud and so genuine it made Dean's skin crawl. "The great Dean Winchester…you know, this is quite the reunion. I mean, we have a mutual friend after all." The look he gave Dean couldn't have possibly looked more like the Cheshire cat, and Dean was already almost trembling with rage. He knew everything, Dean could see it in his eyes. "Alistair spoke so much about you, Dean. You really were his favorite."

Dean _did_ jump at that, at least, as much as he could the way he was bound. His eyes widened, startled.

"Oh yes, I knew Alistair. I've been around a long time, Dean. Since before your time. I was a pupil of his, actually, just like you. I was in the pit, when he was working you, and he used to talk about you quite a bit. Said you were an _artist_ with a blade. Of course, then you became his greatest disappointment. Even so, he had seen so much promise in you…you must forgive me, but I'm a little underwhelmed, here."

He moved closer, reached up to brush a hand against Dean's cheek. "The way I heard it, you were a good hunter in your day. Even tried to take on our lord. But this? Walking in here, alone, virtually unarmed? If I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't even trying." He smirked, was suddenly far closer than Dean wanted him, his lips against Dean's ear. "Isn't he beautiful, Dean? The _power_, can't you feel it? And he's not even trying right now. He could have you through this wall in milliseconds, if he wanted. And he was _such_ fun to train, after those first few years. The screaming and crying for _you_, that got _old_."

Dean snapped, made a noise that was more roar than scream and lunged forward as hard as he could. It did him little good, but he fought hard all the same, his screams finally forming into words. "You fucking son of a _bitch_!"

He laughed again, pleased, but what was worse was the way Castiel smiled. It looked natural, calm, as easy as a human would have smiled at a puppy.

A low vibration started in the walls, then, and it was only seconds before the whole cavern was rattling with it, loose stones clattering to the floor. The demon's both looked up, curious, as the shaking intensified, two rock spears plummeting to the ground only feet away. If Dean hadn't suspected already what was behind it, the migraine inducing shriek that filled the cave next would have told him clearly enough.

Macchion gripped Castiel's still outstretched arm hard, his eyes fearful. "An archangel."

Castiel rolled his neck, eased his hold on Dean. "I can take him."

"This is not an ordinary angel, Castiel, this is beyond even you. We have to go. _Now_."

Castiel's gaze lingered on Dean, and if he could have found the strength to unglue his throat, he might have tried saying something.

"Leave him, he's not important enough to risk this. Let's go."

The pressure let up fully, the sudden rush of air and lack of pain sending him buckling to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. He was still fighting to breathe, his throat raspy from his desperate screams, when he felt the violent tremors stop, heard a single soft footstep on the cave floor.

"Are you hurt?"

"What the hell are you doin' here? Huh?" He sucked in another breath, realized the arm that held him up was shaking like mad. "If you've come to gloat, you can stick it up your ass. I didn't need you to save me." His voice was raw and unfamiliar, and he realized there were tears pouring down his face. He was practically sobbing, and he hadn't even really noticed.

Michael's hand came down on his back, gentle and warm. "No. I'm not here to gloat, and you most certainly _did_ need me to save you. You walked into this, Dean, with no plan for walking out. You trusted him, but you won't make this mistake again, will you?"

He jerked away, shaky and uncoordinated, refused to look back at the archangel behind him. "Get the hell away from me." He sucked in a slower breath, swiped his arm over his cheeks. "Now."

"Dean, I know this hurts but to be fair, I did warn you."

He shoved himself to his feet, kept his back turned. His fingers curled into fists, but he was worn too thin to throw a punch or even yell. "Get. The fuck. Out." This time, he heard the faint swish of wings as Michael left.

When he could be sure his fingers weren't shaking, he pulled out his flashlight and headed back to the entrance.

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A/N: :'( I kind of feel like an ass for putting Dean through this, poor guy.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Chapter 3! Sorry I couldn't get this up sooner this week, I've been catching up on a lot of sleep…X.X

(and if anyone lives in Kentucky and has any information on Mammoth Cave or the surrounding area to offer, it would be much appreciated…and I would send you imaginary cookies, because the real ones can't seem to beam well over the internet…)

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He had stopped on the way back to the motel to pick up whatever alcohol he could, and by 2 AM he was undeniably drunk. Even so, not drunk enough. He had tried going to bed, but it hadn't been a good idea. Every time he had tried to shut his eyes he saw Cas the way he had been in the cave, cold unblinking eyes and a disturbingly easy smile. Or worse, Cas as he'd known him before but with his eyes black, grinning at that other fucker. His hands tightened on the bottle at the thought of him, knuckles going white. If there was one thing he was going to do by the end of this, it would be ripping that son of a bitch into pieces so small nothing could ever be salvaged.

By 4 AM he was absolutely beyond wasted, and still he couldn't sleep. No matter what somehow he just kept thinking, and everything he didn't want to think kept shoving its way into his head. The later it got the more his thoughts shifted, flipping through the past. He could still see Cas so clearly, could still remember down to the last detail what it had been like to be with him, to be loved by him. The memories hurt the way Michael had warned him they would, now. Oh they had hurt before, but now that he had _seen_ it was a thousand times worse.

It was impossible to keep them from coming to mind, and it all dug deeper than it had before, agonizingly deep.

He could remember a hotel room like this one, on a hunt two years after the war had ended…

_Dean came awake with a gasp, jerking frantically away from the hand on his shoulder. _

"_Dean." The whisper was soft, close to his ear and so perfectly familiar._

_He gulped in a breath at the word, eyes closing with relief. "Cas." He took a few more breaths, focused on the comforting presence of the angel beside him. "I wake you up?" His voice wasn't quite as steady as he'd have liked, but it was good enough. Especially considering that moments before, in his dream, he'd been screaming. _

_Castiel lay a hand flat against his chest, over his racing heart. "Yes."_

_Dean swallowed, looked away. "I'm sorry, I-"_

"_**Never**__ apologize for this, Dean." The words lashed out, his tone suddenly hard. He shifted closer, chest pressing warm against Dean's arm as he leaned over to kiss his forehead lightly. "I'm sorry it went on so long. I should have been watching. I haven't been as vigilant lately, I'm afraid."_

_Dean laughed once, soft. " 'S not your fault. You can't be watchin' me every second. And you shouldn't have to." He shook his head, shame dragging his voice low. "When's this gonna end?"_

_The hand on his chest rubbed firm, soothing circles, and despite his anger at himself and the residual terror of the dream, Dean could feel himself relaxing into the touch. "Honestly? I don't know. Believe me, I wish I did." His eyes caught Dean's, and in the faint moonlight Dean could see the pain there. "Maybe never, I'm afraid. The things you went through…souls aren't meant to recover, Dean. They're meant to break. To never come back. But you…" He smiled, slid his hand up to cup Dean's cheek. "I pulled you out and made you whole. You are an anomaly. You are intact. As you should be. But that doesn't mean you'll ever be quite what you were, and I'm sorry for that. If I could have reached you sooner perhaps…" he swallowed, his eyes flickering down. "But…we'll never know." _

"_Hey." He brought a hand up, ran his fingers through Castiel's already ruffled hair. "Don't you blame yourself for this. Not for a damn second." Cas looked away, smiling, and he knew it was all the answer he was going to get. No matter what he said, the angel would keep thinking there was more he could've done, and while Dean couldn't disagree more he knew nothing he could say could shake the thought from his mind. They were alike in that way. "So basically, I'm broken." He smirked, lay his head back fully on the pillow to stare into the dark. "Yeah, that sounds about like me."_

"_You most certainly are __**not**__ broken." His hand stroked against Dean's cheek, the caress both soft and possessive. "Whatever Alistair might have told you, I brought __**all**__ of you back. You are just…" He paused, and Dean opened his mouth to interrupt only to find Castiel's fingers covering his lips. "Scarred. Not broken." _

_Castiel removed his fingers slowly, letting him speak. "If you say so."_

"_I do." He slid just a little closer, his body fully pressed against Dean. Dean automatically wrapped his arms around him, felt himself warm at the contact. "Go to sleep, Dean. I'll make sure the dream doesn't come back, I promise."_

"_But you should-"_

"_Shhh." Dean felt soft lips against his collarbone and he closed his eyes, arms tightening reflexively around his angel. "I don't need any more rest." He propped his chin on Dean's chest, and Dean cracked his eyes open to meet his gaze, intoxicatingly blue and so full of love he didn't deserve. "Sleep." _

The memory had always been a good one, but under the present circumstances the thought of it was searing agony. In Heaven, he'd missed Cas but the weird constant happy vibes had kept it dulled. Here, the unadulterated _need_ to be with him was overwhelming. As was the knowledge of all the reasons why he couldn't be. It was like losing dad or Sam all over again. Except that now, he had no one to fall back on. No one at all.

Somewhere along the line the memories had turned into an actual dream, and though at first it was depressing but normal, he woke with a start when his memory changed, when the dream version of himself woke to find Cas staring at him with pitch black eyes, blood covering his hands.

He sat up quick, gasping, immediately regretting it as his head pounded. He winced, pressing his hands to his temples and shutting his eyes tight against the sickening light bleeding in around the curtains. "Goddammit." His voice was hoarse, defeated, and he almost wouldn't have recognized it. His stomach turned violently, and he barely staggered to the bathroom in time, collapsing over the toilet and coming up with mostly nothing. He hadn't eaten anything at all. When it was over he wiped his mouth slowly, washed his hands and collapsed back against the wall, shutting his eyes against the spinning. He hadn't been hungover since he was a teenager. He'd developed such a high tolerance he'd been pretty sure alcohol would never be able to make him sick again, but apparently he'd gone through enough on an empty stomach last night to prove himself wrong.

"Are you ready to talk, now, or will you just order me out again?"

Dean groaned, his head throbbing. He refused to open his eyes. "God, stop talking."

"You shouldn't have been drinking, Dean."

_That_ was definitely enough to get a rise out of him, even as sick as he felt. He opened his eyes, glaring. "Oh really? And how do angels handle feelin' like they're losing their mind, exactly, huh? What's your plan for crazy?"

"Most of us never let things get that far."

"Right. Control your emotions, don't let them control you. Ever think about writing some shitty self help books with that motto?"

Michael settled down against the wall, and Dean noticed for the first time his sword was absent. Apparently, he was making his best attempt at casual. "I know you're in pain, Dean, and I'm sorry. As I said, it was never my wish to disturb you. I find this attempt…" He licked his lips, shook his head once. "However, I trust my Father's judgment."

Dean latched onto the hesitation. "What? What were you about to say? C'mon, Michael, say what you really think."

Michael sighed, stared down into the tile. "That it's cruel. But that is why such decisions rest on a judgment far greater and more all encompassing than mine. Clearly, I do not know all ends. If He wants you to try, it must be possible. It is, at least, theoretically possible."

"Yeah, and that's another thing." Dean winched, tried to ignore the way his head pounded when he turned it. "You sent me down here with this mission, but no information on how the hell I'm supposed to start doing it. He's not exactly…" The word caught in his throat, overwhelmed by the emotion in the memory. "Approachable."

"I believe that is for you to determine, Dean. After all, you did know him best. If anyone is to have a chance of discovering a way to reach him, it will have to be you."

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, blocking the light. "He told me once…he told me souls were never meant to recover from hell. That it was meant to break them." He slid his eyes open, watched Michael to judge his reaction. "How does it happen, exactly, becoming one of those things? Did they…do they _take_ your memories? Wipe 'em out somehow?"

Michael hesitated, frowning as he thought. "From what we understand, no. It is instead the soul that chooses to repress them." He turned to Dean, gesturing with one hand in the air. "Think of your own time in hell. I'm sure there were moments you worried for what Sam would think, if he could see you then. See what you were becoming, how willingly you tore souls apart."

Dean sucked in a hard breath, fought another wave of nausea. Yeah, this was exactly what he needed to think about first thing in the morning when he was already sick as a goddamn dog. Every fucking horrible thing he'd done in hell, every time he'd wished to whatever the hell might be listening that Sammy never, ever, _ever_ know the things he'd done. "And?" He hadn't exactly answered, but it was enough.

"And over time, those feelings increase. Comparable to the way some victims of extreme trauma can bury memories so deeply they themselves would deny their existence, it seems in order for a demon to be formed, the soul becoming the demon blocks off every good memory. Due to the circumstances in hell, it becomes too painful to remember. So, they put it out of their mind. It's still there, somewhere under the surface, but so distant and foreign that it can't be recalled. Not any of it."

Dean nodded once, stopped when he felt the room spin. "If that's how it works, no demon would ever remember being human."

"Not necessarily. We believe they repress only the good, the things it hurts them to remember. A form of self preservation, really, to keep from going utterly mad. You would have, for instance, kept your hatred of Lillith. It's not exactly a good memory, just a memory."

"Which is how Ruby remembered being a witch and the demon she served, but not much else." Even saying her name tasted like poison. He could still feel how good it had felt to kill that bitch.

"Exactly."

"So…" He cleared his throat, ignored the pain in his chest. "He remembers that he's an angel, obviously. But not…not me. Or Sam. Saving the world, all of that."

"Yes."

"Right." He sighed, let his head fall back against the wall and didn't even care when it pounded painfully in response. So…theoretically, somewhere inside Cas still knew him. Still knew him, still cared for him. But reaching that now… Something else came to mind, suddenly, and he could feel his blood come to an instant boil, fists clenching hard. "Who is he?"

"I wondered when you'd get to that."

He sounded almost amused, and Dean resisted the urge to punch him. Barely. He wanted the answer bad enough to restrain himself. "_Who is he_?"

Michael's jaw clenched, and even from the side angle Dean could see his eyes darken. "His name is Josiah Macchion. He was the son of a Puritan pastor in Massachusettes in the 1600's. He went through life as an evil man, and his transition into hell was a disturbingly smooth one. From what we know, he was a great pupil of Alistair's, though his methods are not quite as harsh."

"Yeah, well, no one's are." Dean's words were biting, clipped. "He and Cas…" He couldn't say it.

"Yes and no. I know little about the intricacies of it. We do know he is the one that first put Castiel on the rack, and he is the one that taught him when he got off it."

Dean's breath quickened, the rage almost blinding. He could see it all too fucking well.

"He is not your mission, Dean. It would be wise to-"

"What? To not think about it?" He stared the archangel down, fury strengthening his words. "When in your long empty life have you _ever_ had opportunity to even remotely understand how I'm feeling right now? How I felt, seeing that…that _monster_ put his hands all over Cas?" A bit of an exaggeration, but it couldn't have made him any angrier even if he _had_ seen that. He'd seen enough. "The things I'm gonna be seein' in my head, knowing _he's_ the reason Cas is like this?" His voice was shaking and he took a deep breath, struggled for control. "When you understand how that feels, _then_ you can tell me how to forget about it." He flexed his hand, saw the demon's face in his mind. "In the meantime, I'm gonna take the Colt and put a bullet in the son of a bitch." A bullet, or 20. He really wasn't picky at this point.

"I understand that the desire for revenge can be a very powerful emotion all the same," His voice rose, talking over the sharp burst of laughter that came from Dean's throat. "All the same, your first priority here is not vengeance. And you should remember that."

"Point taken." Dean rubbed his temple again, wished he could squeeze hard enough to stop the pounding. "Well, this has been lovely but unless you want to actually _help_ me, I need to be getting moving. Wasting daylight stayin' here."

Michal's hand came out to grip his wrist, stopping him from standing. "Whatever you may think, I _am_ here to help you. You don't exactly have time to make new connections so I have been assigned to this case, until it is completed or abandoned."

"It won't be abandoned." He said it with stubborn fervor, though even as he did a vision of Cas the night before flashed behind his eyes.

"I don't have the exact location of his next move yet, but I'm pinpointing it. As soon as I know, I will pass the information on to you."

"Fantastic." Dean arched his back, stretching. He could feel every dip and ridge on that cave wall still, the bruises fighting for attention as he moved. "How long until you know?"

There was no answer, and he wasn't surprised to see that Michael was already gone.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

One more short conversation and two days of driving later, Dean was checking into the cheapest motel he could find around Bowling Green, Kentucky. From the information Michael had been able to gather Cas had moved quickly, and he was apparently already in town. Interpreting omens was a tricky thing, even for angels sometimes apparently, and Dean was hoping they weren't already too late.

He leaned across the counter as the young girl handed him his credit card back, gave her a disarming smile. "So, I've never really been to the area before but a buddy of mine said there was a good cave around here? Thought I might check it out, since I'm already here for this business meeting and all."

The girl-her nametag said she was Alicia-smiled back at him, pulled a brochure from a stack by her computer monitor. "Around here, there's plenty of caves. Mammoth Cave is the biggest in the world, located about 45 minutes from here. Most tourists we get head up that way for at least a day. But, if you're just gonna be hanging around town, we've got Lost River Cave right here at home. It's one of the main _local_ tourist attractions." She slid the brochure into his hands, pointing halfway down to the picture of a boat ride through the cave. "Ripley's Believe It or Not says it's the shortest and deepest river in the world."

Dean nodded, thinking. "Great. Well, that should definitely be interesting." He straightened, folded the paper and slid it into a jacket pocket. "Thanks." At least this time he was starting out with two options. Enough to keep Cas semi stationary and searching for a couple days at least, hopefully. From the spotty research he'd done on Mammoth Cave the night before, the thing was freaking huge, and even searching with an idea of what they were looking for if they wanted to be thorough, the demons would probably be going through it for awhile. If he played this right, he could get a few chances to talk to Cas while he was here.

Even thinking it it sounded ridiculous, but he was far too tired of arguing with himself. He'd gone over and over everything he could think of on the drive, and come back around to the fact that there was no way to get this done other than to keep shoving himself right back in Cas' face. Which meant that he was going to have to make himself vulnerable, in some form. It was probably his imagination, but Cas had seemed at _least_ curious about him before. It wasn't much, in fact it was hardly shit, but at least it was a start.

However it was gonna go, by that night he was going to be ready to try again. If God was even listening at all, Dean could hope He had enough mercy to give Dean a chance to get Cas alone. Though even if he did, he had no idea where he was going to start.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Dean huddled against the rock wall, jaw clenched hard to keep his teeth from chattering. He'd swam in, but now he was seriously starting to doubt the wisdom of that move. He'd been right that at the time it'd made less noise than a boat, but if he couldn't stay quiet now that extra precaution wouldn't do him any good. He hadn't been walking long when he saw dim light coming from an alcove to the left. He pressed tight up against the wall, slid just close enough to peer inside. They weren't there, but someone else was.

A woman was hunched over with a small flashlight in her hands, drawing a Devil's Trap in white chalk on the floor. He anger flared in his chest more suddenly than he'd expected, and before he could think better of it he whipped the gun out from behind his back and stepped around the corner. "Makin' that a little obvious, don't ya think?"

She whirled around, though surprisingly it wasn't an actual gun she leveled at him. A jet of water hit him squarely in the chest and he laughed, held his own gun steady. "You thought I was a demon?" He jerked the barrel, motioning for her to stand. "Back up."

To her credit, she didn't move. "If you're not one of them, who the hell are you?"

"I'm a hunter, now back up." He cocked the gun, kept his eyes locked with hers.

"If you were a hunter, you'd have no problem with what I'm doing here." Her eyes narrowed, studying him closely. "You don't sound like _him_. And if you were, I'm sure you could have me up against the wall by now. Unless you're trying to be sneaky."

"Look, will you just do what I said? Get away from the damn trap." He stepped forward, pulled down the collar of his shirt to show her the pentagram. "And I'm not a demon. See? I told you; I'm a hunter." He motioned with the gun again and this time she stood up slow, her eyes still suspicious. "I'm just sayin'…" He closed the last distance, scuffed his shoe across the chalk line for good measure even though the trap was incomplete. "You're setting this up a little bit too obvious, don't you think?"

"And you had to say that at gunpoint." Her flat tone took away the question, made it evident she didn't believe a word. If he'd been her, he wouldn't have either.

"I got trust issues." That much, at least, was true. His eyes flicked to the water gun still in her hand and he smiled. "Holy water in a super soaker. That's a _nice_ one. Bobby shoulda thought of that." He uncocked the gun, lowered it slow. "Sorry about that. Just had to…" Explaining why he had trouble with her setting one of those was a little more complicated than he wanted to get, so he gave on that subject. "Are they here?"

"I don't know." Her words were terse, annoyed, and he knew she wasn't exactly telling the truth.

"You don't wanna tell me; I get it." He held her eyes, tried his best to _look_ reasonable. "Look, I'm not crazy ok? I can see that this would kinda look crazy, it's just…" His eyes flicked to the trap again, jerking his gaze back when he heard her move.

"Put down the gun." Her words were steady, and this time the gun she held aimed at him was undoubtedly real. He grimaced, reluctantly lowered the gun to the floor. "Now who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

Considering he had nothing to lose, really, he went with the truth. "I'm Dean Winchester. I'm a hunter, and I'm on the trail of two demons. Tracked 'em here from Freedom, Oklahoma." Well, part of the truth at least.

"Dean Winchester? If you're gonna lie, you could at least give a less conspicuous name. _Who are you_?"

So, she knew him. That threw him a little, but he realized he shouldn't have been surprised. Chuck had written down their whole story after all, and it only made sense that hunters would have heard of it. "Look, I know it must sound insane, alright? But I am Dean Winchester. And I'm tracking these two for a reason. Well, one of them at least." And the other one, to put a bullet in him. But that was personal.

She scoffed, unbelieving. "Dean Winchester died years ago. After-"

"3 years after the apocalypse. Yeah, I was there." He licked his lips, thought about how much information he could give her to prove his point and still stay safe. "The blonde one? His name's Macchion, right?"

She looked undeniably curious at that, and the gun dipped a little. "How'd you know that?"

"I told you, I was in Freedom. Now can you lower the damn gun and we'll talk about this?" He held his breath, hoped she'd bite. She did, but not before collecting his gun as well. She paused, glanced at her watch and swore under her breath.

"C'mon, whoever you are. We need to get the hell out of here before they get here. Of course, I had a plan, and if you hadn't come barging in here it might have worked. Here, this way." She motioned for a tunnel he hadn't seen off to the other side, indicating that he go first.

Dean hesitated before he started down the path, swallowed back the rage that accompanied the thought of Cas caged. Even now, even with what he'd become, it made him sick. "It wouldn't have worked. Too obvious. No demon'd come within a mile of that."

"Not on its own, smart ass. That's what the holy water was for. I was gonna wait until they separated, try getting him alone. Was planning to get him with the holy water to give me a chance to knock him out, drag his ass to the trap."

It sounded just crazy enough that he or Sam would have tried it, once. "Which one?" That much he had to know.

"If you'd been tracking them for any length of time, you'd know." She said it smug, and he clenched his fists. God, he was wanting to punch her. And he usually didn't hit women.

"Can you just answer the damn question, lady?"

"I've been after these guys 7 months now, usually separately. The other one, the strong one, holy water doesn't work on him. I've never seen anything like it."

Dean had, and it was only now he was able to fit the pieces together. "Azazel." It came out as a whisper, heavy with realization. "That son of a bitch."

"I've heard the name, but I heard he was dead."

"Oh he is." His blood surged all over again at the memory, the way it felt to stand over his body and feel like he had finally done something _really_ right. "But the holy water, it didn't work on him either." According to what Michael had told him, Azazel had been one of the original fallen angels. If that was true, that could be the connection, the reason holy water effected neither of them. Evil as they were, they still carried the blood of angels, blood that kept them immune to the burn of anything holy.

"Turn right."

He took her direction, went down the tunnel just to his right. "So I told you I am-"

"You lied."

He ignored her, kept talking. "But I have no idea who you are. Little unfair, don't you think?"

She was silent a minute or two, and at first he wondered if she really wasn't going to tell him. "Caroline McWhirter."

"Nice to meet you, Caroline. I think." If she was tracking them, she was going to be trouble. The tunnel ended, came out in an overgrown, barely visible exit.

"Alright, listen." She didn't have the gun on him again, but her voice was cold and dangerous and he wouldn't have been surprised to see her pull it. "I don't know who you are, and I really don't care. But you came in and disrupted my hunt tonight, and that's enough to make me think you're trouble, at least. At worst, that you might be working with them. So I don't like you and I certainly don't trust you, and I don't want to see you ever again or I _will_ shoot you. Understand?"

He didn't like threats, even if he could see where she was coming from. Besides, she had ruined his hunt too. By the time he had made up his mind to speak, she had almost walked away. "You wanna know why I'm here?" She stopped for that, half turned her head to listen. "I wasn't lyin' when I told you who I was and if you really knew anything about what you're hunting you'd know why I was here, but I really don't give a rats ass if you believe me or not. What you _do_ need to believe is that the other one, the one you said you _weren't_ exactly after? That better be the truth. Cause if you send him back to hell so help me _God_ I will kill you. And I won't waste any time telling you why. Understand?" She tried to turn, to face him, but he grabbed her, holding one arm steady and catching the other mid-spin to pin behind her back. He jerked both their guns from the back of her jeans, shoved her away. "Just leave him the hell alone. Or better yet, leave the whole goddamn case to me and don't get in the way."

She said nothing, though the glare she gave him was venomous enough to be beyond words. When she stayed silent, he walked away, keeping her gun.

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A/N: Well, I meant for this chapter to get a little farther, but it's decently long as is…in my head, I wasn't thinking of how much writing needed to be done to get to where I wanted to end this one at, lol

So, major Dean/Cas interaction(albeit, of the very depressing sort) will be coming in the next chapter, promise!

(And don't worry, Caroline isn't a main character and Dean certainly isn't going to sleep with her…in fact, after this chapter she won't be around for quite awhile, she just needed to be introduced now because she has a role to play later…)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Alright, MAJOR depressingness here…implied torture, and just lots of general painfulness…

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"She did nothing differently than you would have in her place, Dean."

Dean didn't even turn around, not exactly ready to face Michael. "I don't care. And I really don't want to have this conversation right now, if you don't mind."

"I'm simply…" He went silent, thinking. Still, Dean didn't turn. "I can see your anger, Dean, and I can see your pain. You're practically glowing with it. It's a dangerous combination, and I hope you know better than to lash out at the wrong people."

The _wrong_ people? As far as Dean was concerned, she had done enough. Demon or not, he wouldn't see Cas caged. Not if he could help it. "Unless you have any new information, this conversation's over." Dean shoved his gun in his waistband, tugged his shirt down over it. "I'm going out."

"You…just got back." There was genuine concern in his voice, or so it seemed. Maybe it was just curiosity.

"Yeah, well, in case you didn't notice that wasn't exactly productive. So, I'm heading out to that other cave system. It's just a 45 minute drive, still be plenty of night left when I get there. I figured what the hell…just in case."

"Reasonable."

Dean stepped away from the bed and toward the door, still avoiding the archangel standing behind him.

"Dean? Good luck."

He sounded like he meant it. Still, Dean's nerves had frayed about as thin as they'd go, and he was damn sick of hearing Michael say how futile he thought this was every 10 minutes. Wishing him good luck didn't exactly overbalance all that, not in the mood Dean was in. Rather than say that, he walked out the door without a word.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The drive to Mammoth Cave hadn't been a long one. Dean was pulled up in a deserted parking lot, studying a map he'd printed earlier in the day. The cave system was almost ridiculously massive, and that was only counting the parts that had already been explored and mapped. The unexplored portions…those were almost limitless. If the demons were being thorough, they'd be searching all of it.

Since he had nothing, it was going to be a stab in the dark looking for them. Still, it was better than sitting on his ass thinking about it all. Or worse, dreaming about it. He folded the map up and slid it in his jacket pocket, pulled his flask out to take one sip before climbing out of the car. He'd get the flashlight and a gun from the trunk, and probably the holy water. It had been good to find out it didn't work on Cas, really. Now he knew he could carry it and use it on that other bastard without ever worrying about hurting Cas if he got caught in the crossfire.

He had just yanked open the trunk when his body froze up, gripped by an invisible force.

"He _did_ tell me you'd be predictable, but I didn't think catching you would be this easy."

_Cas._ _Fuck._ Dean swallowed hard, his heart racing in his chest. Whether it was from excitement or fear he couldn't exactly be sure. Fear would have been smarter. Before he could open his mouth to say a word, he felt a hand on the back of his head and everything went black.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Dean came awake groggily, his thoughts fuzzy. He remembered the drive to the caves, first, then….

_Shit._ He flexed his limbs, felt out his situation. His hands were bound tight, pain already radiating from the rope cutting into his wrists. His legs were tied just as securely to the legs of the chair he was sitting in. Clearly, he would be going nowhere. He rolled his neck, felt it crack. He had probably been shoved in the trunk.

"Ah, you're awake. Good."

Dean clenched his jaw, kept his eyes shut at first. He was usually so good about hiding what he didn't want someone else to see. Usually. Sam had always been able to read him regardless, of course. And later, Cas had learned to do the same. He wouldn't remember any of that now, but that didn't make it any easier to disguise his tension. This hit too close to the chest for him to keep his cool. At Sam's darkest he had hardly been able to face him and keep the tremor out of his voice, and this was closer to that than he had ever wanted to be again.

"If you wanted me to come with you, you coulda just asked, Cas." He said it as light as he could, forced his eyes open and hoped to God he could keep the pain out of them. He smiled, tilted his chin up. "It's good to see you." Not exactly a lie.

The thing that should have been Castiel laughed, and he sat down on the motel bed Dean was closet to, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Is it? If I were you, I don't think I'd be seeing anything good about this situation."

Dean shrugged, kept the smile up. "Keeps me from having to hunt you down." He licked dry lips, looked around as much of the room as he could see. "Where's your pal?"

Cas' smile was thin, devoid of any feeling. "Away. We split up more often than not now that we're both topside."

Dean nodded, processing. "Ok. So you two ah…" He fought a brief internal war over his ability to talk about this, but the urge to keep Cas talking won out. "Known each other in the pit a long time then, huh?"

"You could say that, yes. Centuries. As far back as I can remember."

And that, that gave him an opening. "But you can't. Remember everything, I mean. There's plenty he hasn't told you." Not the best opening, and he didn't' expect to be believed, but he had said something, at least.

Castiel's eyes flashed, not the black he was expecting but a brilliant burnt orange, almost marbled in the way that Azazel's had been. "He told me enough, Dean Winchester." His voice was almost a growl, now, and Dean could hear the roughness that just screamed _Castiel_ more than ever. "He told me about you."

Dean's heart leapt jaggedly in his chest. Whatever that bastard had told him, it could have only made things worse. "Yeah? What'd he tell you about me?"

He darted forward, his hand clenching tight enough around Dean's jaw to come just short of breaking it. "That you're the reason I ended up in hell in the first place. That you're the one to blame for the years I spent there."

It cut through him the way Macchion had clearly meant it to, slicing deep into his heart and sticking, twisting. He could feel his chest rise and fall rapidly, almost panting with the strength it took to hold back tears he couldn't let himself shed now. He swallowed twice, looked away, his eyes almost shut. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." The hole in his chest twisted, widened. He forced his eyes to meet the blazing gaze that stared him down, let himself be dragged under by the anger he deserved. "But it's not like he told you, Cas. It _is_ my fault, and I know it now, and I'm sorry, and I'd take it back if I could..." His voice broke there, a fresh slice of agony ripping through him. For the sake of Castiel's soul, he would have been willing to give him up. Throwing away his own soul to be with Cas, that he could've done in a heartbeat. But if he'd known this was the price, he never would have let things get that far. No matter how much it hurt. He stopped to gather the pieces a bit, forced himself back together enough to keep going. "But at the time you…you wouldn't have seen it that way. You wouldn't. You didn't. Whatever he told you, it wasn't like that. I didn't…I didn't _send_ you to hell. I never would. You didn't tell me, Cas, I didn't know. And I woulda gone before I'd let you, I swear to God."

Castiel laughed, shoved him back hard. The orange in his eyes faded, leaving the deceptively soft hazel of his vessel. "That's cute. You honestly think your lies mean anything to me?" He smirked, clearly unphased. "Tell me, Dean, do you know _anything_ about hell? Do you have any idea what it's like there, hm? What you sentenced me to?"

He did. He could see it all far too well, and that was roughly half of what had been driving him mad ever since he'd found out. "I do, actually. I was there, once." He let the next words rest in his throat, considered the wisdom of saying them now. "And you…" God, it hurt to even think it now, to think of what they had been in the face of the conversation they were having now. "I was there 40 years, and you pulled me out. You brought me back." He took a deep breath, fought the tears that were still threatening him. "And if I could've, I would have done the same for you. At the very least I woulda joined you there, if I couldn't do anything better."

"Really? And where does such…_charity_ come from? Guilt? Humans are rather big on guilt, from what I've seen, though it never does them much good. Or the ones they're feeling guilty over, for that matter."

"No. No, not guilt." He looked away, eyes downcast. His soul was already laid out, torn open. He certainly had nothing else to lose by not saying everything, now. It wasn't as if anything could hurt him _more_. "I ah…" Even so, it was hard to say it. Even knowing he was at the point of pain that went beyond agony or even beyond numb. Still… "I love you, that's why." He spoke around the lump in his throat, the scream that clawed at him knowing how many fucking times he should've said that before and never had the guts. How much it would've meant to Cas to hear it, back then. "I never told you that, though. I figured you knew, so I didn't need to say it. No point in telling you something I thought was obvious." He laughed a little, for a split second forgetting just how pointless saying it now really was. "I'm stupid like that, sometimes. But I should've said it. And I'm sorry. I know it woulda meant something to you to hear it."

"You're actually a pretty good liar, Dean. I'm impressed." He sounded amused, and when Dean looked up at him the smile was almost enough to make him sick.

"I am not lyin', Cas. I swear to you I'm tellin' you the truth. I would never lie to you. Not even now, no matter what."

Castiel shook his head, stood and walked over to the end table to pull open the drawer. "Well, Dean, it'd be in your best interests if you _would_ actually tell me the truth. Honestly, though, I don't care how much you lie about how you knew me, or anything else. There's only one thing I want the truth on." He pulled out a bag, tossed it over his shoulder onto the bed. When it landed it jolted open, just enough for Dean to see the knives inside. He clenched his jaw tight, looking away again until Castiel's iron grip drew his gaze back front and center. "Macchion told me you where there before, when our master was caged like a _dog_."

"He is _not_ your master, Cas. And you were there too! We did it together!" He poured his heart into the words, all his strength behind them.

Castiel's fist jerked back and connected hard, hard enough that for a second Dean almost blacked out. "I told you, Dean, I don't give a _damn_ about the other lies you choose to tell. All I want to know…" He grabbed his chin, pulled his head steady again. "Is where he is. The sooner you tell me that, the sooner this will all be over for you."

Dean held his head up, his words steady and calm. "Gonna torture me, Cas? That's not like you, buddy." Dean did his best to keep his pulse steady, flashes from hell already fighting for attention in his brain. There was too much history, too much of _this_ he had already been through and he had no idea how long he'd be able to hold out before he snapped. He'd had years in between to gain some distance, though, and he could only hope he'd have the strength to hold out long enough. Maybe Michael was right, maybe there was no hope. But he couldn't let go of it, couldn't let go of Castiel. Not without a fight. And if he was the only one that could do this, then he'd have to go by instinct, even if it seemed crazy. His best guess, his _only_ guess was to keep treating the demon in front of him like he was really _Cas_, and pray to God it'd somehow jog his memory.

Castiel cocked his head, and Dean swallowed back a fresh wave of nausea. "You'll find I've learned a lot over the years, Dean. I had a very good teacher." He reached behind him into the bag, shuffling one hand around in it without looking and coming up with a wicked looking blade. "I'll start simple. Of course, it's up to you…this could be over quick."

Dean shook his head, slow. "No. I'm not tellin' you anything. Not about Lucifer." He swallowed, forced a smile. "We can talk about anything else, though."

"Too bad." He took another step, closed in and let the blade rest against Dean's collarbone, just at the edge of the neck of his shirt. Dean could feel blood welling up already, the blade even sharper than he'd expected.

"You can't scare me, Cas. This isn't you." He kept their eyes locked, tried to look braver than he felt. On the inside, he was so far past fallen apart he couldn't even feel the pieces.

"That, Dean, is where you're wrong." After that, he began.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hours later, Dean couldn't help but be a little pleased that Cas was looking frustrated. Everything from the way he held his shoulders to the way he ran his fingers through his hair was just a little familiar. Ridiculously small comfort, but at the moment, it was all he had. He blinked, wished he could reach a hand up to wipe the blood out of his eyes. "Gettin' tired? Hell, I know I am." His voice was rough, raw from the way Castiel had gripped his throat when he'd made him angry enough.

The demon's back went rigid, and it was a moment before he turned to face him. "Tired? No, just bored. I'm not used to these…constraints. You see in the Pit-"

"You'd just wipe the slate clean and start over right about now, right? Yeah, I know how it goes. Well, I'm sorry. Only got one life for you to play with up here." He sucked in a sharp breath, winced at the pain that brought. "You know you could just kill me. I'm not gonna tell you where he is no matter what you do." He hoped, desperately, that Cas wouldn't believe that. If he killed him, that would probably mean Dean's chance was up. Michael'd ship him back, hand the Colt off to someone else, someone like that hunter chick he'd met the night before. He couldn't let that happen.

He laughed once, sharp. "Nice try, but you won't get out that easy. I'm not going to kill you, Dean." There was something so familiar and so foreign about the way he said his name, and Dean shut his eyes, dwelled on it. He really was crazy, the kind of crazy that went far past any hope of sanity. Even after being tortured by him, the pull he had _toward_ the man hadn't lessened. Not one bit. "Even if you won't tell me where he is-and I believe eventually you will-I'm sure there will be…other ways you can be of help. Other information you have that we can use."

Dean swallowed, held his head up as best he could. "Such as?"

"We're being followed by a hunter. Associate of yours?"

For a minute, Dean hesitated. Everything he'd lived by his entire life told him to keep his mouth shut. No one dealt with demons, not unless it was their own soul they were offering up. But this was Cas, and short of bringing about the end of time he didn't really give a damn what he told him. In fact, the more he told him the more likely he was to get more chance to talk to him, maybe edge under his skin a little. "Her name's Caroline McWhirter, and she wants to trap that other son of a bitch you travel with, send him back to hell. She knows holy water won't hurt you, and you scare the piss out of her, I think. That's all I know." Castiel had looked away, one hand skimming over his blades again as Dean had spoke. "Cas." He didn't expect anything, and when Cas actually turned to face him he was more ridiculously pleased than he'd ever thought he could be over something so damn small. "I'll tell you anything else you wanna know. Anything." He swallowed, forced out of his mind just how much his dad would kick his ass for ever saying this. "I can help you."

"Anything?" He smirked, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. "There was an archangel in the cave, the other night…"

"His name's Michael, and he's badass. Really dangerous; he helped us trap Lucifer before. And he did it alone the first time around. But I don't think he'll be interfering anymore. Not for awhile, at least. He's busy." He hoped, desperately, that that was true. Of course, offering to feed information to the other side just might be bad enough to get Michael charging in through the ceiling at any minute.

The smile faded, curiosity leeching into his eyes as he took a step closer. "We suspected…Macchion knew of his involvement, before."

"Told you I'd tell you the truth." He licked his lips, tried to keep from hoping this was going somewhere. "You can use me, however you want. And I'll help you on everything I can. C'mon, think about it…a hunter workin' for you. You could _use_ that."

"And what's in it for you, hm? What do you want in return, Dean? Someone you know in the Pit? Someone you want resurrected?"

Dean shook his head, slow. "No. No nothing like that. I'm not askin' for anything. I'm doin' this for you."

"No, you-" He stopped short, one hand coming up to press hard against his temple. He winced, hissed, but before Dean could even wonder what the hell had happened it was over and he was glaring down at him, his eyes cold, his hand clenched tight on the back of Dean's neck. "How did you do that?"

"If I had any idea what you were talkin' about, maybe I could tell you. Except that I didn't do a damn thing." They stared each other down, Dean's heart hammering in his throat. Whatever it was that had just happened, he hadn't seen Cas this unsettled. That could only be a good thing. Probably, at least.

The phone rang, and the moment was gone, tension sliding out of the air as quickly as Cas turned away. He pulled it into his hand, headed toward the door without yet answering. "Stay put if you know what's good for you."

"Nah, think I'll take a walk." The door shutting cut him off and he sighed, let his head fall back. Whatever the hell had just happened, it was probably along the lines of one step forward and about 20 back. Did that even count as progress?

"Dean…what _has_ he done to you?"

There was far too much pity in Michael's voice and Dean's eyes slammed open, narrowing. "Nothing too bad. I heal quick."

Michael's eyes were kind, one hand reaching out to brush blood off Dean's cheek. "That's not what I mean. Your soul, it's…" He knelt on the floor swiftly, one arm resting against Dean's knee. "You don't have to do this, Dean. It's too much to ask, I know."

He had heard those words before, in a different context, and he could he feel the God awful hole in his chest widen just a little bit farther. "I want to do this, Michael. I _can_ do this. Ok? You've gotta let me." He blinked, shoved his memories under control. "I have to help him. And between now and then, I'll do whatever he wants me to. I can do that."

"You can't listen to him, Dean. This isn't Castiel, not as you knew him. The man you loved, he would have never done this. You must know that."

"You can skip the pep talk, thanks." He swallowed, looked up at the ceiling. "Look, heaven's not gonna smite me for givin' him a hand, right? It's the only plan I had."

"No. I can't say I like it, but for the moment…it's allowable. Dean, look at me." His words were firm, something different in his voice and Dean knew he was about to hear some unbreakable rule. "You don't have much time. We can only give you so long before we'll have to conclude nothing can be done. That's why I'm telling you, if you want, this can all be over. Now."

He ignored that, cut his eyes toward the door Cas had gone through. "He's still in there. I know it. He was interested enough in me to search me out."

"Yes, as a curiosity, Dean. As far as he knows you damned him to hell and did who knows what else to him, as well as preventing his kind from taking the world…all reasons he has to hate you."

He ignored that, too. Dean shook his head, thinking. "I don't know. Something just a minute ago…something hurt him, and he thought I'd done it. But he looked…weird about it. I don't know. What do you think? I mean, do we know how the hell this works anyway? If I do get through to him, what happens then? Does he remember everything?"

"I've told you, Dean, you're in new territory. We don't really know." He shrugged, curious. "I suppose he _could_ have remembered something, but he would hardly be willing to call it a memory. Even _if_ you start making him remember something, Dean, there's no way of knowing how much he'll remember or if it will even be enough to make him accept them as memories. We simply have no way to know."

Dean sighed, frustrated. "Just…just find out what you can for me, alright? There's gotta be something, some precedent for this. Even if it wasn't this bad, something like this has to have happened before for God to even suggest it to you, right? I mean, He's gotta know something we don't. Just…stop trying to get to me to leave with you. I'm stayin' with Cas." His words rang with conviction. It felt good to say them.

"You realize, even if he's not torturing you, there's plenty more he can do to hurt you, Dean. And he will. If he is…curious about you, he'll try to figure you out. And you've told him more than enough to hurt you with. The way you look at him alone would be enough to tell him everything he needs about how to hurt you."

What he left unsaid was plain enough, and Dean scoffed, shook his head. "What, you think he's gonna use himself against me? That's hardly a threat, Michael. Sorry if this hurts your little innocent brain but I'll take him however I can get him. Hell, I wanted him last night. Sorry to break it to you, but human need isn't exactly reasonable."

"You won't like this, Dean. He'll be out to hurt you, emotionally. And he'll be able to do it."

Michael was probably right, but at the moment Dean couldn't be worried. The way he felt already didn't seem like there was much left that could be hurt. Everything already hurt. "Yeah, well I can take care of myself. You let me handle him, just get me whatever information you can. Alright?"

Michael nodded, slow. "Alright." He looked away, opened his mouth twice to start before he actually spoke. "I was there the day he pulled you out, Dean. I was there, and I knew him well enough to know the choice he would make long before he did. He had never spent much time around humans before, and he had been so long in hell fighting for you, I wondered if it was wise to let him be the one to lift you out…he was too far invested, and I knew it would mean more to him than it should. All the same I must say I was…" He shook his head, remembering. "I was humbled by the power of it, after he pulled you out. You were…you were bloody, a mess, and Raphael had to be the one to heal you but he wouldn't hand you over…he wouldn't even put you down. He held you for it, kept his wings wrapped around you, shielding you even though there was nothing around that would have been close to a threat. There was too much possession in him already. To him, you were his. He loved you even then I think, but he didn't know it. And while I don't approve of what he did for you, there was certainly something admirable in his feelings for you. What I'm trying to say is…" He shook his head again, smiling. "I suppose I'm trying to cheer you up. I've never seen a soul as colorless as yours is now. What I mean to say is that he did love you, once. Whatever he does now…that can never change."

"You done?" His voice came out rough and he cleared his throat, blinking. It wasn't like Michael had told him anything he didn't already know, really. He _hadn't_ known that story, but he knew that Cas loved him. Far too much for the angel's own good.

"You are a hard one to reach, aren't you?"

"How's Sam?" Changing the subject was safer.

Michael chuckled, amused. "He's fine. He tries to worry about you, but they don't let him."

"Don't you ever find that a little creepy, huh? Can't you…can't you lighten up on him a little?"

"And _let_ him hurt? You'd rather he be in pain, worrying about you?"

Dean let out a harsh breath, jaw clenching. "No. No, I wouldn't."

"Alright then."

Dean heard the soft swish of wings, and by the time he looked up Michael was gone.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Castiel paced, turned the phone over in his hands. Macchion had been little help. He had asked as much about Dean as he could without raising suspicion, but the answers had been vague at best.

"_Winchester, he's still following you?"_

"_He's around, but I haven't seen much of him. Are you sure I shouldn't take him? There's something about him I can't place, and perhaps-"_

"_I told you, you knew him. He made you fall, sent you to hell. It only makes sense that you remember him. He's better left alone, for now. He knows your powers, weaknesses we might not even know ourselves. He could be dangerous to you, to all of us."_

"_Then I should kill him. Get him out of the way."_

"_No…no, not yet. He should suffer, first. He should see us succeed. He __**is**__ dangerous, though, Castiel. Don't let him get too close."_

"_I know how to lose a hunter, Macchion. I'm not helpless."_

"_Of course you're not, of course. Tell me, have you found anything?"_

He hadn't been able to pry any farther, and running over the words now still told him nothing. Macchion was reluctant to talk about it, that much he knew. He feared something about the man, and that in itself was ridiculous. No human could possibly pose a threat to him, not even a hunter. The man had certainly been easy enough to catch, and he hadn't put a fight since then. There were prophecies he didn't know, certainly, but if this man was to be his downfall surely Macchion would have told him. More likely than not, he was simply being superstitious. He was older, his prejudices running deep. He said he had known of this man in the days before the last apocalypse, and it was likely that fact that had him afraid of him now.

Ridiculous. Just because heaven had used him before didn't mean it would again, and his potential knowledge was a resource they couldn't afford to pass up. At the very least, it could save them some time and annoyance. Castiel would use him, in however many ways he could. When he was finished, it'd be easy to kill him and cover up that he'd ever had him. When they rejoined, he could tell Macchion he'd thrown Dean off his trail.

There was just something about him Castiel couldn't shake. Instinct, perhaps. Macchion did say he'd known him before, back when he himself had served the God that betrayed him to rot in hell. If he'd known him then and forgotten it over the years, it would make sense for instinct to remind him that the man might have useful information about the enemy. And maybe in the course of finding out the things he needed to know, he could find out something he very much wanted to know…exactly _how_ he had been betrayed, how he had ended up in hell.

It didn't matter so much, really, but it would be nice to have someone to punish for it. Even for demons, hell was never a fond memory. He could remember nothing of the early years beyond the pain, but that was enough. Although now, he was wondering if Dean knew something more…if he was even entirely human. There had been a moment, before the phone rang…something he hadn't understood.

He stopped the pacing, leaned up against the brick wall of the hotel, thinking hard. Maccchion _had_ said the man was dangerous, but never in what way. It had been only a split second, a sharp headache and single image, looking up from the rack through blood in his eyes. It was his own voice screaming, he was sure of it, and it had been Dean's name. The man had said he'd been to hell, but he'd assumed at the time everything he'd said was a lie, but if there was truth in it in pieces, if he had been to hell and somehow left it years before…

That _should_ have made him a demon, but he certainly wasn't. Still, stranger things had happened. Forgetting that technicality, if he _had_ made it out….he could've been the one to put him on the rack in the first place. It would explain how he was familiar, at least. Still, the theory didn't really hold water. Macchion had said Dean was the one that landed him in hell, not the one that took him once he was there. It made more sense that Dean had been an angel once, as he had. An angel that betrayed him somehow, and if he had lost his grace since that time, if he had become human, he could have still retained some of his powers…powers enough to make him see what he wanted him to see, perhaps? Still, that didn't make sense either, not entirely. If he had any angel blood left in him at all, Castiel would have been able to sense it. He had before, on a fallen they had encountered.

Whatever it was, it looked like he might have a chance to get to the bottom of it. They had planned to be a apart for a few weeks, searching separately. That gave him all the time he needed to use the human, bleed him for whatever information he could get. If it was nothing, so be at. At least he would have the chance to satisfy his curiosity.

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A/N: This chapter was depressing as fuck, but I actually really really enjoyed writing it, since I've had this image in my head of poor tortured/kicked puppy Dean ever since I decided to write this story, lol It's nice to actually have this part written out now, but I do feel soooo bad for Dean…still, I promise, things _will_ start going up…at some point….XD


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Alright, new chapter! Yay!

But…I must warn you this is absolutely the darkest chapter yet…the darkest chapter out of everything I have planned, actually…there's definitely some consent issues going on in part of this, just to let anyone know in case in that really bothers them…

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Dean looked up when the door opened, his head falling back wearily against his shoulder. "Hey, Cas. What'd he have to say?" Castiel ignored him, turning around to lock the door behind himself. The curtains had been drawn as long as he'd been in the room, but Dean had glimpsed daylight through the open door. It was sometime in the afternoon, by his best guess. "We heading out, or staying here?"

Cas sighed, pursed his lips and Dean felt his mood ease up maybe half a notch. Those were familiar gestures, easily readable as 'annoyed Cas'. "We're staying here for the foreseeable future, until I'm certain this cave system has been thoroughly checked. And I suggest you stop talking."

So, he had been right originally. Well, that was good in a way. It gave them some time in one place, at least. He was pretty sure Cas was planning to take him with him when he moved on to the next Cave, but just in case he wasn't this bought him some time. He had turned to look at the bed again, and he jumped in surprise when he felt Castiel's hands on his wrists from behind. He heard the click of a knife, felt the rope suddenly loosen on his hands. He pulled them around front slowly, gratefully rubbing the circulation back into them. "Thanks." Predictably, Cas said nothing, moved on to cutting his ankles free. "So ah…this mean we're done with…this?" He nodded in the direction of Cas' bag, a bloody curved blade still resting on top.

"For the time being." He rose up, looking down on Dean. "As long as I'm getting nothing out of you it's a waste of time. Until I find how to make you tell me where he is, I'll use every other bit of information I can get from you."

"Sounds good, mostly." He rubbed at his wrist again, felt the slide of still fresh blood. "Except no matter what you do, I'm not telling you where he is. Everything else is fair game though. I can help you; I really will."

"That remains to be seen." Cas turned away, sat down on the edge of the bed to begin cleaning his tools and putting them away. "So…Dean Winchester. If you lived so long ago, how is it you come to be here, hm?" He looked down as he said it, and though his voice was hard there was undeniable curiosity in it.

Dean leaned forward in the chair, winced at the pain that accompanied the movement. "I already answered that, sort of. I'm here for you."

"And I've told you I don't believe it. By what means?"

"Michael, the archangel. He brought me back." Dean licked his lips, considered. If he told Cas now that he had been sent by Heaven to save him, he wouldn't believe him. Worse than that, it could make him wary. Even if he needed Cas trusting Heaven in the long run, right now he just needed Cas to trust him. "He sent me to kill you." Not entirely a lie, and it fit, but it was hard to say it. It wasn't far from the truth, and that fact alone was enough to make him sick.

Castiel laughed once, eyebrows quirking up. "Well, you did a fine job."

"Oh I could've. There's a way, and I could've taken it. But I wasn't gonna do it, Cas. I never considered it. Not for a damn second." Maybe it was the anger in Dean's voice that surprised him, but Castiel raised his head, met his eyes. Yes, there was genuine shock there, at first. It didn't last long enough to be appreciable, really, and then he was looking away again.

"How?"

"There's a gun. It's in the trunk of the car. I was gonna find a safe place to keep it but…" He tried to shrug, bit his tongue to keep from crying out at the pain. His arms particularly had been cut up pretty good. Moving that much was gonna be out for awhile. "Guess it doesn't matter so much, long as we keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

"We?" He shook his head, didn't give Dean time to answer. "If you could've killed me, why didn't you do it?"

"I told you, I would have never done it. Not for anything." He swallowed, willed Cas to listen to him, to really _hear_ him. "I told you, Cas. I'm here for you. Not him, not anyone else. Just you." Castiel was silent, sliding the last blades into his bag with an unchanged expression. "And I know you don't believe me. I know that. But that doesn't keep it from being the truth."

"The gun's in the trunk?" He stood up, bag slung over his shoulder.

Fighting back the defeat that threatened to drown him, Dean nodded. "Yeah."

He went out without a word, and Dean waited, watching the door as he heard the sound of a trunk opening. It wasn't long at all before he heard it slam again, and only seconds after that the door swung open. He slid the Colt from its place at his back out into the open, looking over it appreciatively . "The power in this, its…" He stroked the barrel with one cautious hand, as careful as a man reaching out to a rattlesnake. "This was worked on by a demon."

"Ruby. But that bitch wasn't the one to make it; she just fixed it. It was made by Samuel Colt in 1835, for a hunter. The original bullets are gone, but one good thing that freaking bitch did was get it working again. You can put regular bullets in it and it works like a charm."

Cas stroked the metal again, mesmerized. "Fascinating. Does it work on anything?"

Dean swallowed hard, looked away. The thought of Cas using that to shoot angels… "I really don't know. We only ever used it on demons. And one vampire."

"Hm. Well…" Castiel grinned, more to himself than to Dean. "We'll have to see about that." He slid the gun into his bag reverently, his eyes lighting orange again in his excitement. "You are proving useful, Dean. Taking you was a gamble, but clearly the right choice."

"Glad I can help." And he was, mostly. Something in it still felt wrong but this was for Cas, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Maybe this was how Castiel had felt in those early days, making the first decisions to help Dean that had led him down the path that got him kicked out of Heaven. There was a point of loving someone so much that even doing wrong didn't seem that bad.

Castiel darted in close, hands on the arms of the chair as he leaned over Dean, studying him with intense eyes. "What is it you want, hm? There must be something." His eyes narrowed, dangerous. "I never strike a deal without knowing the price."

Dean looked away, forced his heartbeat to calm. He had moved in too damn close for comfort, and Dena hadn't been expecting it. His vessel's eyes weren't the familiar drown-inducing blue but they were fucking gorgeous in their own way, all soft gold and green in proportions that seemed to shift every time Dean saw them. "There's not a catch, Cas. I fucking told you already." For the first time talking to him, those words came out almost in a snap. He had done so good keeping his emotions under control, up until now. He took a deep breath, focused. "I just…I just wanna help you, like I said. Just let me keep travelling with you, and I'll tell you everything I can that doesn't have anything to do with Lucifer." He still hadn't looked at him, and if anything Castiel had moved closer. He could feel his breath against his cheek, hot and as effecting as ever.

"If that's the deal you're willing to take, it's a bad trade. But who am I to argue when I'm getting something for nothing? Alright, then…we have a deal?"

There was the weight of something like a smirk in his words, and Dean swallowed, kept his head turned. He knew exactly what making a concrete, real, _binding_ deal with a demon required. And he dreaded it almost as much as he wanted it. "Yeah. Yeah we have a deal."

More suddenly than Dean could be ready for turned away like he was, Cas brought a hand up to grip his chin and kissed him forcefully, tongue shoving roughly past his lips to stroke deep into his mouth. He didn't think, didn't question, responded instinctively without stopping to think that might not be the best idea. He slid his tongue against Castiel's, his neck arching back, whole body rising up just a little to meet his kiss with enthusiasm. Almost as soon as he responded Castiel pulled back, nipping his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and leaning away with a low chuckle.

"Well….that's interesting."

Dean swallowed, felt his cheeks burn with shame he shouldn't have had to feel. He shouldn't have had to feel _guilty_ for wanting to kiss the man he'd been missing for centuries, shouldn't have felt guilty about downright _craving_ it. But this wasn't the same, and now…now he was only more vulnerable. Still, he had decided all along that was the card he was going to have to play. To act as if nothing had changed and hope to God the demon in front of him _would _change. However much he got hurt in the process….he deserved it, really. After all, if not for him Cas wouldn't even be in this mess. "And what surprised you, huh? I already told you everything." He couldn't say it any more plainly than that.

"You did, but I thought you were lying. I still think you're lying, about most of it. Still…" There was almost laughter on his words again, and Dean stole a glance up, felt his heart sink even further at the damn pleased grin Cas was wearing. "Interesting."

Dean cleared his throat, gathered his control and met Cas' gaze with some semblance of strength. "So…that seals the deal? We travel together on this, and I tell you whatever I can?"

"Yes. That seals the deal." He was still amused, but in a dark enough way to bring a pit to settle in Dean's stomach, reminding him of Michael's words. Until he found a way to get him back to some semblance of himself, the things Cas would do with the knowledge he had could be nothing good. Just another reason why he was going to have to work fast. One curious look and then Cas turned away, moving fluidly back to the bed to sit down and pull a stack full of papers out of a bag. He settled in without another look in Dean's direction, focusing entirely on the sheets in his hand.

For awhile Dean watched from a distance, but patience had never been his strong suit. He finally stood up gingerly, put as little pressure on the parts that hurt the worst as he could. All in all, it wasn't so bad. He'd certainly had worse from Alistair on his easiest day. He sat down on the bed, shifting in closer than he probably should have to get a good look at the papers. Castiel's eyebrows rose, slightly, but he said nothing, and the arm he leaned on the rested close to Dean stayed where it was. If he was counting tiny microscopic victories, this could go down as another one. Even before they had been together or even remotely close, they hadn't had any sense of personal space with each other.

"You really are insane, aren't you?" He murmured the words softly, his eyes still skimming over the map currently resting against his leg.

"I've heard that before, yeah." He settled back against the headboard as comfortably as he could, cleared his throat. "Told you, you don't scare me, Cas. You never could."

"Then you're very foolish."

"Maybe." He coughed, licked his lips. It was hard, trying to figure out how to start conversation with him. Hard to know what to say and what to wait on, hard to think what would be the most effective. Hard to talk about any of it really, because if he was going to be sort of re-teaching all this to Cas, he'd have to talk about a hell of a lot of things he'd never wanted to put into words. Things that were this personal he'd never thought _needed _words. Undecided, he shied away from anything important and looked at the map in Castiel's hand. "Tennessee?"

"Our next stop, after here." There were X's on the map, over all sorts of caves. Some he could remember passing signs for on some road trip or other, but the others he'd never heard of.

"We goin' to all those?"

"I will search wherever is necessary." It was terse, his words clipped. Dean decided to drop it, let the room lapse into silence while he tried to figure out what the hell to say. "So…" Castiel shuffled papers to find another sheet, Mammoth Cave history from the glimpse Dean got of the title. "You were in hell once, were you?"

"Yeah. I was." He swallowed, felt the weight of the memories settle onto him. Even mentioning the place was always enough to do that.

"Yet you never became one of us."

The fact that he said us instead of them was almost enough to make him flinch, but Dean kept his composure. "No. I didn't."

"How long?"

_Too fucking long_. Dean rubbed a palm against his jeans, wished he had gun to clean, something to do with his hands. "40 years." If he was telling it, might as well tell the whole truth. "30 on the rack."

"Impressive." Hard to say if he meant it. His tone was flat, his expression unchanged. "Macchion's teacher spoke highly of you, he says."

"Alistair? Yeah, I guess he did. Would know, I hated the bastard." The mention of Macchion had anger boiling in him again, a mix of pure hatred and blinding jealously. "And how the fuck can you call these monsters 'teachers' after everything they do to you, huh? I mean, I might've been training under Alistair 10 years but it was still my deepest wish to tear him to freakin' ribbons and burn the pieces. I mean c'mon, don't you wanna give him payback for everything he did to you?"

He actually got his attention with that, he could tell. Cas' eyes stopped moving on the page and he set it down, head cocking as he thought. "They do their job. What's necessary. It's what we do, the only way any of us learn." His eyes blazed orange for a moment, intense. "Whatever he did to me doesn't matter. We are the same, now."

"And how long were you on the rack?"

He shoved the papers away to flutter across the bed, and Dean's heart sped up. He'd struck a nerve; that was something. "A long time."

Dean clenched his jaw until it hurt, fist balling up against his leg. _I'm sorry, Cas. God, I'm so sorry. _"So you don't remember."

For a minute, he was sure Cas was going to hit him. He whipped his head around, fixing Dean with a cold glare. "Not everything, no. I highly doubt you can remember the beginning of your life either."

"But it _wasn't_ the beginning of your life! That was just part of it! You had a whole other life before that, and another really even before I knew you. Thousands of years, from what you told me. And if you don't remember how even this started then-"

"I know enough." He pushed himself up off the bed, taking the weapons bag with him and slinging it over his shoulder. "You agreed to the deal. You can't leave."

"I won't."

The door slammed shut behind and Dean let his head fall back against the wall, exhausted. He was already worn thin, and he was pretty sure he hadn't even gained an inch of ground.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Dean jerked away at the sound of the slamming door, his head reeling horribly as he sat up. Cas came in the door without looking up, came over to drop his weapons and a plastic bag onto the end of the bed. Dean rolled his neck, felt it crack as he pressed a hand against his temple to stave off a little bit of its pounding. "Hey."

"It's after dark, I'll be going out." He rummaged in the sack, pulled out a pack of beef jerky to toss in Dean's general direction.

Dean almost smiled, sat up to pull it toward him. "Thanks."

"You're staying here since you'd only get in the way in your current condition. And I can't use you if you're dead." Not the answer he would have preferred, but he'd take it. Dean sat back, started in on his dinner. Honestly, he'd eaten worse(and less) before. A hunter's life wasn't exactly conducive to healthy eating.

When he pulled out something for himself too, Dean took that as another tiny plus. Cas had never _had _to eat, but one thing being around Dean had taught him was the he certainly _liked_ eating. He'd picked up the habit after they'd started traveling together, and while he rarely ate full meals and the things he picked were usually pretty random, he ate almost as regularly as a human. As a demon he wouldn't need to eat either, and the fact that he was showed that that was one trait he'd kept. Dean cut his eyes over at Castiel, examined the little bag he had in his hands.

Dean laughed once, shook his head. "Some things never change."

Cas glanced at him with barely disguised curiosity before opening the package carefully, from one corner.

"They still put the peanut M&M's in the yellow bag." _And you still like chocolate way too much, freak_. He smirked a little, nodded his head toward the bag. "You won't like those, though. You gotta be different, you like the freaky almond ones. Unnatural if you ask me."

Clearly ignoring him, as he'd known he would, Cas dumped a few pieces into his hand. "You talk too much."

"You should hear-" He cut himself off, cleared his throat. "Well, someone else I know. Makes me look quiet, I'll tell you that." He watched as Cas tossed a few of the pieces back, hoped like hell that taste could be a soul thing as much as a vessel thing. Maybe it had just been Jimmy 's tastes he'd learned, not Cas'. He really hoped that wasn't the case.

Castiel chewed slowly, glared in the direction of no one in particular before turning his head just enough to glare sideways at Dean.

Dean couldn't help but grin. "See? I told you. Give 'em here, I'll eat 'em."

Cas clenched his hand, the little bag devoured in flames that died as quickly as they'd sprung to life.

"Asshole."

He swung the bag into his hand again, stared Dean down. "Stay here. The instant you become more trouble than you're worth, I'll kill you."

"Right."

One last stare and he left quickly, slamming the door behind him again. Dean shook his head once, rolled his shoulders. "Angry much?' He pushed himself to sit over the edge of the bed, brought his hands up to run over his face. He felt damn exhausted even though he'd just woken up. Every wound he'd acquired earlier burned and throbbed, not to mention the stiff ache radiating through his entire frame. Still, none of it was as bad as the hollow sickness he felt every time he so much as looked at Cas. All in all, he was doing better than expected. He hadn't given up, at least. Anything short of that was worth it.

He rubbed his eyes hard, his headache momentarily winning out over his other pains. If he just had one of those first aid kits like he and Sam had always carried he'd have some good drugs and he'd be able to load up on them, knock himself out and wake up something close to ready to go. Of course, that was all just incredibly wishful thinking. The best he could do right now was a shower to clean himself up a little, and maybe the heat could relax some of his sore muscles. After one last glance at the door he stood up, headed toward the bathroom to get himself clean.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was after 4 AM when Castiel gave up, and when he climbed back into the car he slammed the door hard in frustration. Nothing, of course. Absolutely nothing. He was beginning to wonder how many caves of nothing he'd go through before he finally found Lucifer. This search could take far longer than anyone had originally anticipated. Logically, he knew he had the patience. This was important, and however long it took to do it, he'd be able to manage. Still, after every fresh failure the disappointment was sharp.

He tapped his thumb on the wheel, fuming, hesitated before reaching for his phone and snapping it open. He pressed the speed dial, waited until he heard the click but spoke before Macchion could. "Anything?"

"No. Not tonight. Did you-"

"No." He hung up, uninterested in continuing the conversation. He tossed his phone idly into the seat beside him, tapped his fingers on the wheel again. He was frustrated and bored, and he would have never thought he'd _want _to be back in hell but at least there he had had a job. He'd had a job, and he'd at least been good at it. Passably good, at least. Nothing like Macchion yet, but he was still learning really. Even so, he didn't _really _want hell now so much as he wanted something to do, something productive. Finding Lucifer or killing angels, he almost didn't care which at this point.

And figuring out Dean Winchester. The man was impossible, infuriating. He had been ready to write everything he said off as a lie until he mentioned the archangel, and then later the gun… Now, he couldn't be so sure. If he was lying half the time and telling the truth for the rest of it it only made him more dangerous, really.

Not to mention, his secret agenda, whatever it was. If he was giving away valuable information, there was something he wanted. Until he could figure out what it was, he would keep having the nagging feeling that his charge held the upper hand in some way, and that would drive him mad.

The other option, of course, was that he was just insane. He did, after all, seem perfectly content to stay at a demons mercy. Any other hunter he'd ever met would have rather killed himself trying to get away than be in that position. And there was the fact that sealing the deal, Dean had been more than willing…either for the deal or for him, he wasn't entirely sure.

He knew next to nothing, and he wasn't sure how much he could trust of what he knew. It was maddening. He sighed hard, frustrated, his hand clenching on the wheel as he turned the keys. His hand jerked back almost immediately, shooting up to press against his head against the sudden splitting headache.

"_Look, just trust me on this, ok? C'mon, Cas, it's __**Sam**__!"_

"_Dean, you know I love Sam, all I'm unsure of here is whether or not he's healed enough to be trusted."_

"_He is. We can trust Sammy. I promise." _

It passed quickly, though not as quickly as the similar incident the day before. He swore, rubbed his temple firmly. A residual ache remained, but the searing pain had only last a second. A little shorter than the moment it had triggered. He'd seen the dash of a car, older, black, and he'd seen himself looking down at his own hands on the wheel. His own hands, but different from these. And the other voice….it had undoubtedly been Dean.

Fury swelled in him again and he roared out of the parking lot, thinking. It made no sense. Whatever Dean had done to him earlier, he should have been able to do it long distance. If he had powers that strong, certainly he would have been able to sense them. Which left the option that it wasn't Dean, but something else entirely. He shoved it out of his mind, still frustrated and jumpy when he pulled up in front of the motel. He wrenched the door open, stepped in and scanned the room, ready to find Dean missing.

He wasn't. He was there on the bed, sprawled out asleep in a boxers and a dirty white t-shirt. His cock gave an interested jerk, and for a second he was almost shocked. Still, it shouldn't have been surprising. The explanation was obvious. Problem or not, there was no denying Dean Winchester was an attractive man. If there was one thing demons learned early on, it was to take whatever they wanted. He'd learned, first from Macchion he assumed though he honestly did remember little to nothing of the beginning. After that, though, he'd followed his example, taken the ones that interested him off the rack when he was curious. All hatred he wanted to direct at the man aside, in the absence of any other sexual outlet, this could be convenient.

He crossed the room quick, toeing off his shoes and unbuckling his belt on his way. He was on Dean before he was awake, one hand closing tight around both his bruised wrists, his body pressing Dean's into the bed. Dean sucked in a sharp breath as he woke, his eyes snapping wide for a minute before settling, understanding reaching them far sooner than Castiel would have expected.

"Want something, Cas? Go ahead." His voice was rough, sleepy, more sincere than it should've been. It was _wrong_, out of place, and it only made him angrier.

"I don't need your permission."

"No, I bet you don't." He saw his throat move as he swallowed, his bright green eyes flicking away to look intently at the wall. "But you have it anyway."

His eyes narrowed and he pulled back enough to flip him over, shoving him into the bed hard with one hand to the center of his back. He had already worked his pants open and he shoved them down now, pulled himself out. He was already hard, more than he would've expected. Still, it didn't matter. It certainly wasn't a problem. He bunched Dean's shirt up on his back to press a hand against flat skin, unsurprised to feel a wound reopening, bleeding against his palm. He yanked his boxers down quick, perfunctory, barely hesitated long enough to slide his blood slick hand over himself. It was more than he would've done in the Pit, enough that Dean wouldn't be out of commission for as long as he would've been if he'd used nothing at all.

He shoved in hard, groaned at the heat, ignored the sound he heard from the man below him. It didn't matter. He was hot and tight and even marked up his back was beautiful, lithe muscles contracting tantalizingly under Castiel's hand. It was meant to be quick, and it was. He rutted against him hard, gasped and dug one hand into the mattress when he came. He panted, rested a moment on one arm before pulling out, jerking his pants back into place.

"Thank you, Dean. Just what I needed."

He hadn't looked at him much beyond his back and his ass, honestly, and when he did now he could see his eyes shut tight, his jaw clenched even tighter and almost shaking. "Course. Anytime, Cas." His voice shook just a little, enough to be noticed.

He opened his mouth, had a reply on the tip of his tongue but his head was suddenly exploding, pain so intense he was almost doubled over with it.

"_You spineless, soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying; you're already dead. We're done."_

_His voice was rough, more hurt than he'd ever heard it, and something in his chest tugged him forward almost sharp enough to pull him across the room. He looked at him again at least, heart twisting to see that he was now looking away. "Dean…"_

"_We're done." His voice shook, pain and rage mingling together. The words cut him more than anything ever had, slicing through his chest and down to what had to be his very soul. He had always imagined that losing his grace would hurt something like this, but now that he was feeling it he was convinced even having his grace ripped from him by force wouldn't hurt nearly as bad as this…_

"Fuck." He swore between rapid breaths, wasn't really surprised to find himself on the floor, his head in one hand. That one…that had been an assault, a force. He felt like he'd been run over with a cement truck, and he had no fucking clue what the hell it was even talking about.

He'd been there for this one, had felt emotions that weren't his and heard Dean's voice in his head the same way he'd heard it first hand moments before. Broken, barely held together.

"You alright?" He didn't look up, anger flaring in his chest at the concern he could hear. As he'd said before, insane, or a very good liar.

He shoved himself to his feet, refused to look in Dean's direction. "As if you give a damn."

"I-"

"Leave me the hell alone." Stalking into the bathroom, he slammed the door behind him.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Dean listened to the door slam, listened to the shuffling inside until he heard the water cut on in the shower. He let out breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, rolled a little to the side and gritted his teeth against the pain. _God_, he hurt. Still, that he could handle. If it had just been that, at least. He'd been so cocky, talking to Michael, but he should've known that son of a bitch knew something he didn't. He'd heard Cas' 'time is fluid, Dean' speech often enough. Apparently, it was especially fluid for archangels. At least, it seemed that way.

Being fucking sore as hell, feeling like he'd been split open…that he could handle. He could remember it well enough, from hell. Times worse than this, even. That, he could've handled. And he'd told Michael before he'd be happy to take whatever part of Cas he could get but _this_…it wasn't what he'd thought. It wasn't rough but still discernible as them like he'd thought it be. Not at all. He'd fucked him like he would a stranger or a whore in a goddamn ally, and more than anything else, that was what was tearing him apart. He knew he couldn't let it, knew he couldn't afford it but he couldn't stop it. He'd let Cas in too close to be able to keep from being hurt by him, and even if it wasn't really _him_, it was leaving a fucking gaping hole.

He took a deep breath, dragged an unsteady hand across his face to catch a tear that shouldn't have been there. He'd wanted to say it was fine, to keep up appearances. He _knew_ Cas was still somewhere in there, believed it with everything he had. Coming back, being himself again, that'd be hard enough. Remembering this…that'd just make it worse. And the more it obviously fucked him over, the more it would hurt Cas in the end. Still, he wasn't sure he'd managed 'fine' so well. At least he'd tried.

He swallowed hard, rubbed his hand hard against his eyes again. "Dammit, Cas. C'mon, buddy…please…" He wasn't even sure what he was begging for, and he couldn't finish the thought. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he pulled the blanket up a little higher and hoped that Michael would have the compassion to not show up for awhile.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

That last part? That was the hardest thing to write I've ever written, and I've written some depressing stuff before. X.X emotionally draining as fuck, but I think it had to go that way, at first….

I _promise_, things go up from here. Slowly, but they go up. And nothing quite _this _bad happens again.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:Chapter 6! Sorry this one took me so long to write; it was being stubborn. ::glares at it::

Thank you all so, so much for the awesome reviews so far, they just make my day. you guys are so amazing.

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"_Dean, Dean, Dean…always __**so**__ stubborn." Alistair ran a hand down his chest, trailing fingers through the mess of blood that barely resembled anything human this late in the day. This round was almost over, Dean knew. He could hear his own blood gurgling in his throat as he struggled for breath. "Like father like son, hm?" _

_Oh, he __**hated**__ it when the bastard brought up dad. Usually he was quick with a comeback, ready to snap Alistair's freakin' head off but at the moment talking was a bit out of the question. He tried to at least clench his fingers, found they wouldn't respond. Maybe they weren't there anymore. It had gotten to the point in the pain where everything kind of went to a dull kind of numb. _

_Alistair grinned, snapped his fingers and suddenly Dean was whole again, his breath coming in even gasps that actually didn't hurt. Alistair leaned over him, practically stretched out on top of him as he offered the knife, hilt first. "So…are you tired, Dean? I know I'd be tired. Just take this, and you can start having some fun. I'll stop hurting you, and you can start enjoying yourself. Sounds so very win-win to me; I can't see why you keep avoiding it." _

_Dean gritted his teeth, stared Alistair down. "Cause I'm not like you, you sadistic son of a bitch." He swallowed, steeled his nerves. "Go fuck yourself, huh? That's my answer." _

_Alistair clucked softly, shaking his head. "Smart boy, but not too quick on the uptake." He swung the knife down quickly, pinning one of Dean's hands to the board below through his palm. "Time to start over, then." _

_Dean was still focused on the blinding pain in his hand when Alistair gave him a sadistic grin, stepped forward to bite a bloody mark into his neck. _

Dean woke with a gasp, years of training the only thing keeping him from sitting bolt upright. He pulled his breathing under control as quick as he could, his hands fisting tight, nails digging in to his palms. That wouldn't have been a bad one, as far as his nightmares went, but it was made all the more worse by the fact that he hadn't had them in ages. He felt clammy, a cold sweat soaking his skin.

"You didn't sleep long." His voice was cold, almost expressionless. And far closer than Dean had expected. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and turned to see Cas in the bed beside him, one knee pulled up, his arm resting on it as he flipped through channels on the TV.

Dean shrugged a little, almost rolled to face him but thought better of that, the pain in his ass twinging horribly when he even slightly shifted on the bed. He pulled his arms up, folded them behind his head. "What're you watching?"

"I'm not sure." There were a few minutes dead silence, and Dean was starting to contemplate trying to get back to sleep again before he heard Cas let out a loud breath, the remote tapping impatiently against his palm. "Who is Sam?"

He could've choked, honestly. The shock of it nearly had his eyes bugging out of his head, and it was honestly a friggin' miracle he wasn't sputtering nonsense at him immediately. Either he'd had a conversation with Macchion while Dean was asleep(unlikely, since if he'd told him about Sam, he would've also probably told him who Sam was), or…

Or he had remembered him. Something about him, at least. Dean swallowed, tried not to look too fascinated. "Why? What'd you hear about him?"

"Are you going to answer the question or-"

"He's my brother." For a minute, his deepest instincts clawed at him, furious that he'd given any information about Sam to a demon, even if that demon _was_ Castiel. He quieted it, controlled the reflex. Protecting Sam's identity wasn't the same as protecting Sam anymore. In fact, Sam needed no physical protection at all anymore. He was in Heaven, safe and removed from all this shit. Cas had said nothing else, and Dean turned his head slightly, enough to look up at him a little better. "Why? What'd you hear about him?"

Cas tapped the remote harder, annoyed. "Who said I heard anything? That's the deal, Dean, I reserve the right to ask you questions and you have to answer them, was that not what you agreed?"

"Yeah, course. But if you knew about Sam before, you would've said so." He shift, rolled over despite the pain it caused and leaned on his left arm, studying Cas. "What did you see earlier, huh? Had you freaked pretty good."

His jaw clenched, his head snapping around to face Dean. "And what were you dreaming, Dean, hm? Heaven?"

Dean swallowed, shook his head twice, incredibly slow. "No. Hell." He kept his gaze even, kept Cas trapped with his eyes. "Imagine that…here I am telling you the _truth_."

Cas let out a sharp laugh, broke the eye contact. "It's a pity if you expect the same in return." He flipped through a few more channels, finally pausing again to toss the remote from hand to hand. "You said that you _were_ responsible for me being in hell." He looked down at Dean, his eyes unreadable in the dark. "Explain."

Dean swallowed, his heart suddenly thudding sharp against his ribs. This, he was going to have to tread carefully around. He pushed himself to sit up, bit his lip when it hurt. At the moment, that didn't matter. "Like I said, I was in hell. Long time ago." He hesitated, rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, his breath catching just a little in his chest as his fingers felt the familiar smooth texture of the brand, he mark he treasured more than he ever thought he would a scar…and he'd been pretty proud of some of them. He shifted just a little on the bed, made sure he could see it even if he couldn't see it well. "And that? That's from you. When you pulled me out. I don't know how, you never told me, but you did it." He wouldn't look him in the eye, let his eyes flicker down. When Michael had first told him about the mission, this was something he'd been certain Cas wouldn't be able to forget. Saving him, marking him…that had to have left some kind of permanent mark on him too, didn't it?

He cleared his throat, kept going. "Anyway, so I was back, and you were supposed to help me out with the apocalypse, a little at least. That's where things get kinda jacked though cause we found out they didn't really wanna stop the apocalypse, the guys over you, so…" He shrugged, looked up to meet his eyes. "So we left. I needed to go find my brother and I asked you to come with me and you came. And you decided to stay."

"You make it sound like I had a choice. From what I hear of the structure of Heaven, I-"

"They wouldn't have let you back? Sure, probably not. But that was your choice, Cas. You _decided_ to leave. With me." Dean swallowed, the guilt raging in his chest. "Because we were already kinda…I was more than just your mission, at that point. They told you not to get attached and…" he laughed once, sharp. "I never shoulda let it happen. I knew, you know. Anna, she'd told me, maybe not the truth but enough to know you weren't supposed to be involved with humans like that. I knew enough to know they wouldn't have let you, and I was selfish. And I'm sorry." He sucked in a sharp breath, determined not to let himself fall apart over this all over again. "So, that's it. You came with me, and because of that, they kicked you out."

Castiel was silent. The remote had dropped from his right hand and he rubbed his fingertips together absently, eyes intent on the screen but obviously so very distant.

"I know you 're gonna say you don't believe me."

"You're right, I don't."

"But you know what I think?" Dean leaned forward just a little, enough to draw Castiel's eyes to him. "I think you're full of shit. Cause whatever it was that was bothering you earlier? I think you know something. And I think you're at least not sure whether or right or not." His voice strengthened, conviction bolstering it. "Or whether _he's_ the one that's been lyin' to you all this time. Now you said that when you went to hell, it was a long time on the rack in the beginning. You've worked souls over on your own now, and so have I, and we both know, it doesn't usually take that long. Does it?" Castiel's head jerked away, the lines on his face hard and angry from what Dean could see. "You know it doesn't. So I know you've gotta have asked yourself at least once, why the hell'd it take so long, for you? Huh?" He paused, felt the weight of Castiel's silence hanging between them. "It's cause you're better than them, Cas. You're better than this. And I _know_ you're strong enough to figure that out."

He turned so fast Dean couldn't even see the movement, his eyes burning orange. "The only thing that I am is a servant of Lucifer. The fact that I served Heaven once means nothing. They deserted me, as they deserted my Master. He is the refuge and strength for all that would live without fear, and what I _am_ strong enough to do is free him. And I will. And I will take as many of theirs down as I am able. Anything else you think you know…" He inched just a little closer, eyes narrowing. "You're wrong."

Dean nodded, slow. "Yeah. Yeah maybe. But I don't think so." He looked away, backing off. It wouldn't do much good to keep discussing it all at once. He'd just have to keep bringing it up, wearing him down. Hopefully wearing _something_ down, at least. He sighed, settled back down against the bed again. "So…tomorrow. Caves?"

He was quiet at first, and Dean was almost sure he wouldn't answer. Then… "Possibly. There's…another opportunity I'm considering."

"Oh?"

"No more questions."

"Right." He shut his eyes, turned away. Whatever they were doing, if he was going out and working with Cas he'd need to be running on more sleep than he'd had. He was still a hunter, sure, but one that had been out of practice for a long time. He wasn't quite as ready to go at the drop of a hat on an hour's sleep as he once had been. He pulled the blanket up, ignored the drone of the TV and tried his best to fall asleep.

As crazy as it sounded even to him, even with Cas like he was it was easier to fall asleep with him right there than it would have been to sleep in an empty bed without him. If that wasn't screwed up, he didn't know what was.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

They left sometime after dark. He wasn't at all surprised when Cas took the drivers seat, but he was surprised by how weird it felt to see him do it. Even under these circumstances, something deep and instinctive was still seeing _Cas_, seeing some semblance of normal. And Cas never drove. Well, hardly ever at least. Dean had thought maybe he'd want to, once, and a few months after the apocalypse he'd thought it was about time to let Cast try his hand at driving the Impala.

Dean slid into the passenger seat silently, nails digging hard into his palm. All of _this_ would be hard enough if there wasn't so damn much history between them, so many memories he was holding onto so goddamn tight. It hurt more than he would've ever imagined to think of them now, and he could understand it, really…he could understand why it would be easier to forget. If you forgot, it couldn't hurt you anymore. And if everything else already hurt, anything that got rid of some of the pain would have seemed preferable, after awhile. As it was, he was almost wishing he couldn't remember already.

"_Alright, c'mon, I __**know**__ this can't be that hard for you!"_

_Castiel tightened his hands on the wheel, shifted his grip just a little. "No. Not really."_

"_Then why the hell are you lookin' like that?"_

"_Like what, Dean?"_

_Dean rolled his eyes even though Cas wasn't looking to catch it. "Like…I don't know, you just look so serious, like we're on a hunt or something. Driving's supposed to fun, Cas. People enjoy it." At least, he enjoyed it. He was pretty sure everyone didn't, but he hadn't expected Cas to look __**this**__ intense about it. _

"_This isn't difficult for me, no, but this…this car means a great deal to you, Dean, and I wouldn't want to make a mistake."_

"_You think you're gonna screw up the car?" Dean laughed, turned in his seat just enough to face Cas a little more. "You're not gonna hurt her; I trust you." _

"_I could run the car without ever touching the wheel, and at first I thought it might be safer if I did but if I lost control, if I overpowered the engine or anything else…"_

"_Cas, stop, alright? It's…" He shook his head, smiling. "It's alright. You're not gonna hurt the car. And if you did…" He took an exaggeratedly deep breath, shrugged. "Well then I might have to almost kill you. Almost. But then I'd fix it. Practically rebuilt her from the ground up; I think I could handle replacing the engine if I had to. It'd suck though." He was still smiling, though, and he hoped Cas could tell he was teasing. "I kinda would like to keep the glass __**in**__ the windows though…those really are a pain in the ass to replace." He slid a little closer, glad his baby was old enough to have that nice bench seat in the front. "Seriously, Cas, I trust you. It's fine. Just have a little fun with it, ok? That was kinda the whole point of sayin' I'd let you drive for awhile." _

_Castiel smiled a little then, took his eyes off the road longer than he probably should have to look over at Dean. "And where am I driving us to? You never did tell me."_

_Dean shrugged, shifted on the seat to lay his arm across the back, behind Castiel's shoulders. "I dunno. Anywhere not far enough to make Sam worry. Told him we'd be back pretty late, though." _

"_Did you?" His soft smile widened just a little, and he shifted his grip on the wheel to one hand, let the other drop to rest on Dean's knee beside his. "Where would you like to go, Dean?" _

_Heat spread from where Cas touched him, the current of it running straight to his cock, and his heartbeat quickened as he felt it swell against his jeans. He definitely had been thinking the drive would give them some time alone once they found a good place off the main road to park, but now that he was there, another idea seemed pretty tempting. "You know, there was this time I was driving this chick back to-" As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue, shook his head once. __**This**__ was one of the many reasons he wasn't good at relationships. He had had a point, but Cas wouldn't want to hear it in that context. Not considering how jealous he had gotten when that waitress in Montana had written her number on the credit card receipt. Dean slid closer, wrapped his arm more securely around Cas, pressed a kiss against his shoulder through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "Sorry, Cas. Forget I said that."_

"_It's alright." There was hurt in his voice though, Dean could hear it, and he kicked himself for it. "What was it you were getting to?"_

"_Something I want to do to you." He laughed a little, nervous, still beating himself up over his damn stupidity. "Shows how much I thought that through, huh?" He licked his lips, smoothed his hand across Cas' thigh. "Just…here. Keep your eyes on the road, ok? Trust me."_

"_I do." _

_Dean slid his hand up the inside of his thigh, pressed him palm firmly up against his zipper and rubbed just a little, his own cock jerking as he felt the rapidly growing pressure under his hand, heard Cas gasp softly. He moved even closer, nosed Cas' shirt to the side just enough to bite down at the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, sucking hard as his fingers eased the zipper down. _

_Cas was panting when he took him into his hand, breath hitching further as Dean lapped at the mark he'd made on his skin. _

"_Dean…you shouldn't…"_

"_Shh. And watch the damn road." There was teasing in his voice, and he gave a gentle squeeze as he said it, smiling against Cas' neck when he moaned softly. He worked him over slowly, slid his hand up to smooth his thumb across the tip, murmuring the angel's name softly as he did. He was impossibly hard himself, his cock throbbing, and the urge to make Cas pull over so he could thrust against him was almost overwhelming. He bit into his neck again, tried to stave off his own desire enough to focus, keep his pace slow. _

_When he could feel Cas' muscle trembling in his arm from the strain of holding the wheel in a death grip, he knew he was close. He kissed the first bruise he'd left on his neck, breath hot and damp against the mark. "Come on, Cas. C'mon." _

"_Dean." It was breathless whisper that somehow still carried an edge of 'you shouldn't have', and if he hadn't been so focused on the feel of Cas jerking and spilling over onto his hand he might have laughed. He tucked him back into his boxers gently, wiped his hand on the inside of Cas' jeans. _

"_Good, huh?" Cas took in a sharp breath, and when Dean's eyes met his he could see lust still simmering in them. "Good. But just so you know, if any of that at all got on the upholstery, you're using your angel mojo to clean it up. Got it?" He didn't answer, and the car was very suddenly no longer in motion. Dean groaned. "C'mon, Cas, if you don't have enough to jump us back to wherever we were Sam's gonna-"_

"_We aren't far." His voice was husky with desire, low and beautiful. As soon as his hands left the wheel he pulled Dean into a passionate kiss, one hand immediately falling to the button of Dean's jeans. _

Dean jerked his thoughts away, shoved the memory back. He could still feel the old leather of the Impala underneath his hands, the way Cas had pushed him back until they were laying on the seat, cramped and uncomfortable but so fucking perfect. Everything back then, even the bad parts…in the end, he'd had everything he needed. He'd somehow managed to get to keep Sam and Cas, and even though he could remember appreciating it, he know now that he hadn't appreciated it nearly enough. Even someone like him that had already lost so much…even if you knew what it was like to lose everything, you _still_ couldn't really grasp the worth of what you had while you had it. Universal law of humanity, it seemed.

He was watching out the window, actually paying a bit of attention now that he wasn't so preoccupied with everything in his own head, and now that he looked… "Where are we goin'?"

"Out awhile from the town. To a farm, I think. Shouldn't have to go much farther."

"Any reason why we're-"

"Research."

Dean blinked, a little shocked to hear that. "…right." Maybe there was a family around here, decedents of original land owners or something that had older maps, deeds, something. He knew, though, that that was just wishful thinking. Whatever it was it meant…it couldn't be good. He also knew he just didn't want to think about it, didn't went to realize that even if the thought made him sick, on the whole he just really didn't care.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

They parked just off the road in tall grass, quite a ways from the farmhouse. Cas was out almost as soon as they'd stopped, yanking open the back door and leaning in to fish around in his bag. "Come here."

Dean got out and crossed around the back of the car, eyebrows slightly raised with curiosity. At the moment, he honestly had no idea what to expect.

Cas turned around, held out a gun. "I don't need this to kill you, and you know you wouldn't be able to hurt me with it."

"I wouldn't try." He took it, kept his eyes locked with the demon he faced. Eventually, he'd get it through his thick head that he wasn't going to make any sort of attempt to kill him. He glanced down at the gun, turned it over in his hand and checked the clip out of habit. "So. What's the plan here? Something specific in there we're looking for or-"

He cut off sharply, his eyes focusing on the pair of handcuffs Castiel was thrusting at him. "Put them on me. Now."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head as he slowly slid the gun into the waistband of his jeans. "You're a kinky bastard, you know that?"

That got him a laugh, deep and dark but still almost real. "I won't be long. Your only job here is to make sure my suit doesn't get away. Not that I couldn't track him down if he didn't, but that'd be an annoyance. I've gotten used to this body; I'd like to keep it quite awhile at least."

_Oh_. Dean nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah. Yeah, sure thing."

He clicked the handcuffs into place, felt them lock, felt Cas test their strength. He could have snapped them easily, but a human wouldn't stand a chance. His head cocked back, and Dean's breath caught in his chest as the watched the black smoke pour out and into the sky with a rushing noise he hadn't heard in ages. _Cas. God, that's…Jesus, __**Cas**__…_ He took a sharp breath, tightened his grip on the gun.

The man before him pitched forward, coughing, and without even thinking Dean's hand shot out to catch him, steadying him. "Hey, hey it's ok. You're ok." The man looked up at him then, hazel eyes devoid of any familiarity they had had before but so full of pain and loss and fear that it felt like a punch in the gut. If Dean had felt guilty before when he had said he'd do whatever Cas wanted, it was nothing to the way he felt now. Everything in him was screaming that he needed to help this man, get him as far away from here as possible and hope to God he had some sanity left so salvage.

For a minute, it crossed his mind. Not even that, really. Seconds. He gritted his teeth, looked away. "You should sit down." He kept the gun level, his voice steady and free of any indecision. And he hated himself for it.

Even looking away he could almost see it, could imagine how wounded he must've still looked. His breath came harsh, ragged and uneven. "You really are something else, you know that? Worse than him."

Dean's fingers twitched around the grip. "You don't know him."

The man laughed, sharp and weak all at once. "_I_ don't know him? I've been walkin' around with him inside me for God only knows how long now, and you think _I_ don't know him? Buddy, I don't know who you think you are exactly, but this…this thing…." His voice wavered on the word, fear and torment bleeding through. "The things I've seen him do? He's nothing but a monster. _Worse_ than any monster I would've ever imagined. I had to watch him set fire to a school, just because the principal didn't give that other one the information he wanted. He's killed _angels_ for cryin' out-"

"He _is_ an angel!" The man had dropped to his knees and Dean towered over him, a little surprised himself at the unrestrained fury that had poured out in his words.

"He _was_ an angel. Not he _is_. He's…" He swallowed, shook his head. "He's evil. Hell, I never even believed in evil like that. But him? He's pure evil. And you…" He shook his head again, his eyes betraying a very amazed sort of confusion. "After what he did to you, you still can't see that?"

Dean looked away, his breath coming out heavy through clenched teeth. He switched hands with the gun, itching to do something, to move in any way that didn't involve throwing a punch. "He's messed up, ok? I'll give you that much. But it's _not_ him. It's not. I know the guy, better than you ever could imagine, and he's just screwed up right now. _They_ did this to him, and I can fix it. I will fix it. I'm gonna help him. It may take awhile, but I know I can help him." That, that reminded him of something, of what he desperately needed to know. "Hey, how awake are you in there? I mean do you-"

"You mean did I see those weird flashes of you he's been having? Yeah, a little. I mean just in pieces, not as strong, and he shields it pretty fast but-"

"He saw me?" His heart leapt, his gun arm wavering down just a bit. "How? Where?"

"Look, I told you, I just saw it for a second. The last one seemed to cause him a lot of pain, I couldn't feel it but…" he swallowed, shook his head. "He was hurt, I could tell. I was hoping he'd leave, actually but he didn't…"

"_What did he see_? C'mon, I need to know!"

"You and a gold room, that's all I know! You had your back to him, but it was you."

"The green room." It came out in one breath, his head nodding once. That, that made sense. It was a _strong_ memory, an important memory. Maybe it was easier for those to break through. And maybe once they did…maybe then it got easier to remember the others.

"He thinks you're nuts, you know. He doesn't believe you, and he definitely doesn't love you."

He ignored that, his mind still racing. If Cas remembered that, if it _hurt_ him to remember that…but no, it had hurt him the day before too. However he had blocked it out of his mind, it wasn't easy to recall.

"Look, he's called you a hunter…I've seen him track those down before, and they always try to do the right thing. If you are…" he stopped, took a breath and Dean focused on him again, compassion tugging at him even though he didn't want it to. "Please just…stay with him if you want, ok? I think you're crazy, but if you have to stay with him, fine. But please, just let me go. Please."

It hurt, it tore at him in ways he'd never expected. This was everything he was raised to do, every instinct, every universal law dad had taught him since he was four. He shook his head, felt his palm grow sweaty against the grip of the gun. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Please…" There were tears in his eyes now, genuine terror. "Look, I can't…I can't take anymore of this, ok? It's driving me crazy, having him inside me, it's…" He looked away, a tear spilling down his cheek. He coughed, and it sounded like there was blood in it. Fluid on his lungs, at the least. "I had just finishing getting my master's, was going for a PhD down at the University of Florida. My girlfriend, I was gonna ask her to marry me when I finished. Her, my family…they've gotta think I'm dead. I'd _rather_ be dead."

Dean hesitated, fought against the words that rose in his throat. "Would you?"

"What?"

"Would you really rather be dead? Is it…is it that bad? I've never been possessed but my brother, he just didn't remember but…but I know it's different for everyone."

"No. I can see everything. And yes, I'd rather be dead."

Dean swore under his breath, spun around and leaned against the car to catch a breath, consider the lesser of two evils. "He's not going to let you go. And the more he gets hurt…he won't feel it. But I guess you might."

"Do it then. You're thinking it, just do it."

"_Goddammit_!" He bit the word out in a furious whisper, his fist slamming down hard on the car, throbbing painfully. There was _nothing_ right here, and if not for that fact, he would have never even considered it. At least, he hoped to God that was true. But now…Cas _wouldn't_ let him go, that much was true. Even if Dean managed to turn him around, the chances this guy would still be in one piece, still be able to be saved…especially if that other bastard was around, the chances wouldn't be high. From the sound of his cough he was already sick, or maybe had some serious injury from awhile back that hadn't exactly healed properly. There was no right here, and it was eating at him. _Could_ he do it? He knew for damn sure he would have preferred it, a quick bullet to the heart instead of being some demon's bitch.

"Just do it, please. If you won't let me go-"

Before he could change his mind, he spun around and pulled the trigger.

He didn't look, tried not to listen to the sound the body made as it fell. Instead he turned back around, hunched over the car and breathed until he could feel the world stop spinning. "Sam…" He hadn't even realized he'd said it until he heard the word break the silence, the sound clenching at his heart. "Jesus, Sammy…" He needed to know what he would've said, needed to have Sam there in front of him, righteously angry and lecturing. He needed Cas, _his_ Cas, all strong arms and protective wings and understanding and fucking _forgiveness_. Always forgiveness, for everything in hell, for everything since, for the conscious he'd only half grown back. He _needed,_ pure and so far beyond want that it hurt to breath.

Over the cries of the cicadas he could hear screams coming from the house, and he knew from the way his stomach didn't turn that he'd known something like this was going to happen all along.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

A/N: When I sat down to right this chapter, I had a TOTALLY different direction planned. But this came out, and I think I like it.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm so sorry this has been weeks in coming…Season 5 started and I really lost my muse for writing Dean in any way other than in his brotherly relationship with Sam, cause I was(and still am) royally pissed off at him for the way he's been acting. But I've been easing myself back into writing him and I felt like I could finally write this now. Believe me I've wanted to, but me and this version of Dean in particular were stubbornly glaring at each other and just couldn't be coaxed into any kind of communication…

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

He was sitting on the hood when he heard footsteps on the gravel, the gun hanging loosely from his right hand. He didn't look up. "Before you start, I had to. I couldn't take it, knowing that poor bastard was trapped like that, it just wasn't-"

Just as he'd known he wouldn't, Cas didn't care. The hand that gripped his chin was hard, calloused and unfamiliar but there was something recognizable in the way he jerked his head up. "I gave you an order."

His voice was low, seething, and there was a thick coating of blood on his hands. Dean's jaw clenched, and he shoved back the sudden fear that rose in his chest. For a moment, he was the closest he'd come to being truly afraid of Cas that he'd been since that first day in the warehouse all those years ago. He swallowed, made himself meet eyes that were a blazing orange over unfamiliar brown. "Look, it's done. What do you care, huh? You can take the body back anyway, fix it up. I _know_ you can so don't act like this is some big problem cause-"

"The _point_ is that I told you-"

"This doesn't affect you!" He surprised himself, his voice rising even as Castiel slammed him hard back against the car. "It's just a goddamn suit for you, it doesn't matter if it's living or dead or fucking cut to ribbons, you can _fix_ it."

Cas stared him down, dangerous and still blazingly angry. "Demons don't heal their hosts, you fool, they merely inhabit them. He's not worth as much with a bullet hole in his chest."

"It's a good thing you're not just a demon then." The hand gripping his chin moved in a flash, fastened tight around his throat. He swallowed against the pressure, forced the words out. "Angels can heal their vessels. Hell, I watched even Lucifer do it." Not the example he wanted to give, but the only one he knew Cas would be willing to accept the way he was right now.

He growled, frustrated, tightened his hand on Dean's neck once before letting go. He heard the rush of black smoke, heard the farmer's body hit the front of the car as it fell, heard the sound of a first, deep breath from the body of the man he'd killed. Still, he didn't look, didn't even flinch until he felt Castiel's hand on him again, turning his head to look him in the eyes. "Just because I can heal him doesn't mean you had any right to disobey me."

"As far as I remember I agreed to give you information."

"And help me."

"And I will. Like I said, this doesn't affect you, unless putting that poor son of a bitch through hell somehow furthered your plans, which I highly doubt."

He jerked him to his feet, whipped a knife into his hand and pressed it to Dean's cheek. "I should teach you a lesson."

Dean closed his eyes, let his head bow. He was beyond tired and pretty close to snapping all at the same time, and even though he knew it wouldn't end well, he didn't want to fight Cas for entirely different reasons. "Do what you want."

"You know, the thing I just don't _understand_ is how you ever got so far with Alistair. You're weak. You give in far too easy."

He sucked in a sharp breath, pressed the palms of his hands into the car. "I don't want to fight you, Cas. And why the hell are you trying so hard to make me, huh? You wanna beat my ass up again? Go ahead, we both know you can do that without provoking me, hell you had me tied to a chair earlier so just do what you _really_ want. This isn't about me resisting, this about the fact that you wanna fuck with me however you can cause I'm getting under your skin somehow and you just don't like it, do you?"

He backhanded him hard, and Dean consciously didn't reach up to wipe the blood away. He kept their gaze locked, monitored Cas' hand out of the corner of his eye. He'd shifted the knife in his hand now and Dean could see it glinting in the moonlight, his fingers twitching nervously around the blade. Slowly, he lowered it. "You're wrong. Nothing can get 'under my skin' if it's worthless. And…" He stepped in, slipped the knife into his pocket and penned Dean in with his arms, palms flat against the hood. "You mean nothing to me."

"Keep tellin' yourself that." He flashed Cas a smirk, started talking again before Cas had a chance to counter. "So what the hell were we doin' here anyway? Kicks?" He felt sick thinking it, but maybe that's just what this was. There was already plenty of precedent for demon vacations, and Cas had clearly been pretty fucking stressed out over the search for Lucifer.

"No, actually." His body relaxed just a little, the tension in his shoulders easing as he slipped into casual conversation. He didn't make a move to back off from Dean, and Dean didn't care. "They're the bait in the trap, so to speak. Not even that, exactly more like…like baiting a deer. Gives you the perfect chance to strike."

It fit together pretty well after that and Dean nodded once, his head bumping against the car. "Hunters are gonna read those signs. Pretty smart, I guess." _In a very 'pure sadistic evil' kind of way._

"Not just hunters. _Hunter_, though I don't really care if it's her or not; I just suspect it will be since she's closest. All I need is a warm body in the hunting profession who is _not_ otherwise useful that I can question." He leaned just a little closer, his eyes narrowing. "That _we_ can question. You were a pupil of Alistairs? You'll have to prove it. Prove your worth."

"Thought I'd already done that."

"I want more."

Dean laughed, felt the hole in his chest widen when Cas clearly didn't see what was funny. "Do you? Alright then." And it was disturbing, really, how easy it was to say yes. He knew her, he'd _met_ her, and he'd just agreed to step back into something he'd left behind centuries ago, just to prove to Cas that he could. Strange, really. Didn't feel like so long ago Cas was doing everything he could to keep Dean from backsliding, not encouraging him to do it. Still, everything was different now.

He leaned even closer, his breath hot on Dean's skin, tickling across his jaw and down under his collar. "Good. Very good."

He shivered, tried not to be shocked by the fact that his body was responding. It was _Cas_, fucking bending him over the car and breathing on his neck like he was trying his damndest to seduce him and there was no way he _wasn't_ going to have a reaction to that, even if it was nothing like what his body wanted to imagine it was. His breath stuttered a little on its own, and the smile that broke out on Castiel's face was far too much Chesire cat for his liking.

He grinned wider, edged slower deliberately closely to brush his lips against Dean's jaw.

It was tender and familiar and incredibly typical of his angel. Everything he wanted, and it was obviously a blatant lie. He was wounded and horrified and furious all at once, and he shoved Cas back with all the force he could manage, not at all surprised when Cas didn't let himself be moved. He waited just long enough to prove himself immovable before he eased back, stood relaxed, his eyes trailing slow over Dean's body. His chest was heaving as he glared up at him, his hands stubbornly steady where they still pressed into the hood even as he pushed himself up. "Don't you ever fucking do that again." He growled the words out, something deep his chest still aching in a way he couldn't fix.

"But that's exactly what you want, isn't it? Hm?" He cocked his head, curious, and Dean was almost literally sick. He jerked away, wrenched the door open and practically threw himself in the car. Michael had been right about another thing. He was, definitely, going to use this to screw with him. As if things weren't hard enough already.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

He fell asleep that morning wrapped up in the sheets, watching Cas sharpen his knives at the table across the room. The minute he drifted off, Michael was sitting in his place. He pushed the blankets off, crossed the room and yanked the other chair out to sit across from him.

"So…any news? Any _helpful_ news?"

Michael tilted his head, nodded once though he seemed a little reluctant. "Some. " He brought his gaze level with Dean's, disapproving. "You're going to torture that woman."

Dean shifted in the chair, rubbed his thumb against the table, his eyes dropping to study the motion. "I don't want to. You know that. I left that behind, all of it, and having to pick it up again it's like…" He swallowed, shook his head. "Like lettin' out a part of me I'm not sure I've got under control. Like it's a leash that's gonna snap or something and I'm gonna go right back to being who I became down there." He took a deep breath, his voice dropping quiet. "Scares the hell out of me, man, it does. But I can't…I can't say no. Not with him like this. He _needs_ me."

"Dean…there has been some concern that…" He shifted, his arms resting on the table as he leaned forward. "Some of the others think that instead of you changing him, _he_ will change you. Take you down with him."

"What, like Stockholm Syndrome?"

"Something like that, yes."

He scoffed, ignored the chill that seeped into his bones. "C'mon, Michael! Look, I know why I'm here, ok? I wanna get him out and get back home, that's it. Anything I do between now and then, I'm just doin' it to gain his trust. And when I have it, when he's remembered enough, then we both get the hell out and we never look back."

"_If_ you can save him. If you can't-"

"What was the news?" He interrupted him loudly, kicked back casually in the chair with one hand pressed against the table's edge. "Please tell me you found something good."

Michael hesitated, gave him that insane stare that seemed to bore through all his secrets before he finally blinked, shrugged in a way that was refreshingly human. "It's not much. And it wasn't as severe. But apparently there _was_ a case somewhat like this, back in the Roman age." He leaned forward even closer, his voice slipping fluidly into a warm conversational tone. "There was a woman, a worshipper of evil gods in her lifetime. However she loved a good man, a soldier. She died, and she spent 5 years in hell before he was able to strike a deal to rescue her. Though she wasn't a demon by that point, she had been severely internally scarred by her time in the Pit. That was as far as the brother that knew the story had followed it, and I took the liberty of going back and taking a look for myself."

Dean let the chair drop, focused. "And?"

"And with a great deal of support on his part, she did come to remember him. She came out of it well, and was certainly a righteous woman by the time his 10 years came due. Unfortunate, really."

_Damn. __**That**__ kind of deal. _ "She ah…she get him out?"

"She was unable. Though she tried."

"So he's still around, huh?"

"Presumably. I didn't investigate that far; it wasn't the part of the story that affected us."

Maybe not, but it affected _somebody_. After everything his family'd been through, he couldn't help but care at least a little. Because really, how much would it have sucked to have had Sam save him from Hell, only to throw himself right back in it? It would've been unbearable, because he'd have _known_ for damn sure exactly what his baby brother was going through, and he'd have never forgive himself. Whoever she was, that woman…she'd almost definitely have been fucked in the head for the rest of her life.

Dean let out a sharp breath, tried to get his mind back on the information at hand. "Right. So we have proof that it _is_ possible. Just like God said."

"No, we have proof that _that_ was possible. Castiel is a full blown demon, with enormous power."

"Yeah, kinda noticed that." In the quiet, Dean could hear the air conditioner running and he almost laughed at the fact that motel sounds were so much a part of him that they stayed in the background to make his dreams authentic.

"You did right, with the man."

He twitched a little, startled at the sudden statement, and when he nodded it was only a single jerk of his head.

"His soul is free, now."

"That's nice." He felt Michael's hand on his arm, then, and he met his eyes with eyebrows raised.

"You should be sure before you do this that you know exactly what you're doing."

"What, gonna kick me out of Heaven if I back up too far? If I start ripping her apart like we both know I can?" He couldn't bear the sadness in Michael's eyes, and he jumped to his feet, paced in the small floor space between the table and the door.

"Dean, nothing can take away your place in Heaven. You are a hero of our Lord."

"Fantastic. Then I don't see how what I do to what's-her-face is any of your business."

"It's my business because it's going to _hurt_ you, Dean. Because you're afraid that if you pick up that razor, you won't go back, you'll just keep following Castiel into the dark because you can't bear to leave him."

He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw hard enough to hurt. Maybe, _maybe_ that fear had danced around in his head a little. But now, now it was out in the open air and that was another thing entirely. He cleared his throat, tightened his fist. "Think I wanna wake up now."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for the girl to find them. They'd moved from the motel to the farmhouse for the past couple of days, coming in just on the heels of the police. She came prepared, of course, but that wasn't going to be a problem. She was walking through the library now, supersoaker propped up against her shoulder. Clearly, she hadn't realized that Macchion wasn't travelling with him anymore.

Dean was pressed up against the opposite side of the door way, his whole frame tense though he looked surprisingly steady and resigned. Cas flashed him a grin he knew would unnerve him, rounded the corner and whirled quickly into the room. "Looking for me? Can I help you?"

Her eyes went satisfyingly wide, and though to her credit she launched into some magnificently flawless Latin, it wasn't enough. He sent her flying back, careening hard into a bookshelf and knocking down two rows. He shook his head, let a low rumbling laugh escape his chest. "You know, you really are thicker than I thought. Did you honestly _think_ you had a chance against me? Or did you just not think I was still here?"

Clearly, she'd expected him to be long gone. His random acts of violence were few and far between, due to the fact that he stuck mostly to tormenting those in some way involved in his quest, and he never exactly stuck around to examine the aftermath. The profile she'd have put together in her head for him would have been correct, but this broke it. Which had been exactly his point.

He pinned her to the shelves, twisted his hand gracefully to put just the right amount of pressure on her throat, keeping her silent. He crossed the room to her slowly, stroked a hand across her cheek and grinned as he felt her shudder. "Miscalculated, didn't you? Hm." He turned his head back over his shoulder, a little bit curious as to how Dean was actually going to respond. This would prove something, fit another piece into the puzzle of this man's motives. "Dean? Come here."

If he hesitated, it wasn't by much. He rounded the corner, sliding the gun into his pants as he did. Honestly, the transformation was amazing. His features were hard, ice cold and closed off and even the way he moved was different, fluid in the way a predator should be. Castiel tilted his head as he watched, curiosity stirring in his chest. _This_ was certainly an interesting development.

Dean took his place beside him, met the girl's eyes without blinking. "We gonna do this here?" Her wide eyes flicked to Dean, panic and shock filling them instantly. She blinked at him as if she literally couldn't believe her eyes.

Castiel stepped closer to them both, felt the heat of something almost like pride. "Yes. Here. Get a chair; tie her up."

"Desk's more like a rack."

"Desk, then."

He nodded once, curt, and his hands came up to grip tight against her wrists, looking at Castiel to show he was ready for him to release his hold. She struggled in Dean's grip but he held her with surprisingly bruising force, manhandled her over to desk. Amused, Castiel released the pressure on her throat and watched with triumph as Dean flinched at the first scream but kept going, gripping both her wrists in one strong hand and clearing the table with his arm.

It was a few minutes before he secured her, and Castiel noted with a nod of satisfaction that he'd used both handcuffs and rope. She wouldn't be going anywhere. He stepped back, stood in a stance that looked so practiced he knew it had to have been routine from his time in the Pit. "You first?"

He moved in, pulled open a nearby closet door to take out the bag of toys he'd stashed there the day before. "Submitting to seniority; I like that." He let his hand ghost across the back of Dean's neck as he passed, grinned when Dean stiffened in the wake of the touch. Whatever his motives were, he had discovered that that was absolutely the best way to hurt him. The way his soul _flashed_ so many shades of grey before losing all color…certainly the most interesting human he'd ever come across.

She'd been cursing, screaming, but she stopped the stream, only the sound of her gasping breath filling the air before she glared up at Dean. "You're a goddamn _hunter_! Why the _hell_ would you turn on your own kind? For _what?_ For _him_?"

He gave no indication he'd even heard her, turned his cool gaze to meet Castiel's. His eyes were a green so pale they seemed permanently faded. "Ready?"

He took his own blade, pressed Dean's into his waiting hand. "Certainly."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It became clear after a few hours that she knew very little of importance. She railed at them mostly, and she sobbed in pain when Dean found a particularly sensitive spot to slide a red hot across. The most he could get out of her was that she could remember seeing something about a cave in the Winchester gospel, but that she had never read it fully and she'd swear to _God_ that the book didn't say much anyway. Just that it was a cave.

Frustrated, he eventually threw down his knife, heard the clatter and dripping as it connected hard with the wood floor and started dripping blood onto the surface. "She's worthless. We've wasted our time."

Dean was still standing over her, blood coating his forearms and a little on his face, drying dark where he'd forgotten to wipe it off. He nodded, rubbed the flat of his blade off on his jeans. "We done?" The words were gruff and focused, utterly unreadable and somehow fascinating.

He changed his own angle, wanting to be able to see his face just in case it gave something away.

"_What's goin' on, Cas? Since when does __**Uriel**__ put a leash on you?" Dean was leaning in, incredulous, and it was everything he could do not to break and tell him everything in one breath._

_Instead, he settled for a piece of the truth. "My superiors have begun to question my sympathies."_

"_Your sympathies?"_

"_I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You." It hurt to say it, because really? __**Too**__ close? They were hardly close at all, in every way that mattered. Honestly, half the time he still felt like Dean hated him along with all the rest, and that kiss that he couldn't seem to forget must have just been some sort of mistake, something to do with long hours on the road and exhaustion and…something. Nothing like the things that kept rising in his own chest, of that he was sure. "They feel I've begun to express emotions…doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment." He turned away as he said, kept his gaze level. If he was honest with both of them, his judgment had long been impaired. He'd known it as he prayed Dean would spare the town, and he'd known it even before that, known it as he pulled his soul from the heat of the Pit. _

_Dean paced past him, giving him barely a glance on his way to look through the window again. "Well tell Uriel, or whoever…you do __**not**__ want me doin' this, trust me."_

_It had been a blessing, really, all those years without emotion. They'd woken in him with such voracious force, and he could feel his heart cracking under the pressure. "Want it, no. But I've been told we need it." And he'd fought that, but telling Dean that now wouldn't help anything. Not at all. _

"_You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out."_

_**What**__, not who. He swallowed back his rage, fought the urge to let his wings burst from his shoulders and gather __**his**__ wounded soul into his arms until he didn't sound quite so broken anymore. "For what it's worth…I would give anything not to have you do this." And in his eyes, considering how little he'd done to help…it wasn't worth much. But at the moment, it was all he could offer. _

"Cas? Cas, hey, you alright? Talk to me here, say something, anything, I-"

Dean was pawing at his shoulder , frantic and worried, and the alien nature of it combined with his still fucking _throbbing_ headache had him throwing his hand out, sending Dean flying across the room. Somehow he'd ended up on the floor during that, and it had been so immersive that this time, there were still residual effects. He opened his eyes, winced against the stabbing pain of the light and shut them again quick, rolling onto his side to press a hand to his temple.

Never one to be anything but persistent, Dean was back, hand pressing against his shoulder again, the sticky, drying blood gluing it to his shirt. "Hey, what's going? Tell me, what'd you see?"

"Get the _fuck_ off of me." He growled the words out, low and dangerous, and he felt Dean reluctantly draw his hand away. He sat up, groaned and pressed his palm to the center of his pounding forehead.

"What the _hell_ did you see?"

He licked his lips, considered before realizing that maybe, this could gain him a little bit of information. He had, after all, taken then man on to find out why he was so dangerous, to discover what secrets he held. "Warehouse. A man, on a devil's trap, and you-"

"Told you I wouldn't go in there." His snapped his head up, ignoring the way it ached at the fast motion. "And you told me…" He knelt, his eyes bright and focused. "That you'd give anything not to have me go in there. To keep me from having to torture Alistair."

"Alistair?" That had been _the_ legend, stretched out and bleeding on a damn iron trap? He moved back, called on his true nature enough that the color would burn brilliant in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing to me? How are you doing this?"

He held a hand up, coaxing. "Cas, I'm not doin' anything, I swear. Look, you'd be able to sense if I had that kinda power, right?" Yes, technically that _should_ have been true. "I'm not _doing_ anything to you. And it's nothing…God, I know it's gotta hurt, and I'm sorry, I am, but you're remembering, and that's good." He smiled, broke the mask he'd been wearing since they'd walked into this house. "You're just remembering. Who you were before, when you were an angel. When you were with me."

There was something almost mesmerizing in the warmth of his voice, and before he realized suddenly that Dean had clasped his arm and helped him to his feet. They were both still holding on, and he could feel Dean's thumb brush reassuringly against the underside of his arm. He jerked his arm away as violently as he could, bent to snatch his knife from the floor. He held it tight by the blade, felt it dig into the underside of his knuckles like butter. The pain was a good distraction. He studied the woman, still panting and bleeding on the table.

"Clean up. I'm going out."

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Cas had been out the door 10 minutes at least and his heart was still thudding in his chest. Honestly, it had scared the living shit out of him to see him crumple to the floor like that, hear his breath catch and almost stop in his chest, see his face contort in agony. It had been like watching Sammy have one of his visions, except apparently these came on with even more violent force.

Still, the outcome? That had been absolutely worth it. He'd actually _told_ him enough of what he'd seen for Dean to place it, and the shock that had come over his face when Dean had finished the memory had been rewarding. Right then, he'd thought that alone was good news. But he'd held his arm out to Cas while he was talking and he'd actually _taken_ it, let Dean pull him to his felt and even held on an extra second or so before he pulled away like he'd been scalded.

In terms of progress, this was like a fucking gold medal as far as he was concerned. They'd actually connected there for a minute, he'd _felt_ it. He smiled as he slid the knives back into their case, felt his skin warm where Cas had touched him. For the first time since he'd come down here, he had something more than blind faith to suggest that this might actually be possible.

Caroline stirred on the table, moaning softly in pain. He went to her, shushed her quietly with a finger against her lips. "Don't. It's better if you're still. If you get really still you'll kind of…go into this trance, and you can rest for a bit. Pain numbs itself a little, over time. Doesn't last though."

She blinked tiredly at him, something like a laugh ghosting across her lips. " 'm I suppo'd think…you give a shit?"

He brushed a hand against her cheek, ignored the pang in his chest. "I do. God, I do. I'm sorry."

She swallowed, took a few breaths to get the strength for the words. "Go to hell."

He bit his lip, stepped away from her to cross to the window. Cas was out there, a distant speck down near the treeline. Looked like he was on his phone. _Probably Macchion, that fucker._ Either way…he'd be gone for a few more minutes at least. He hadn't intended things to go this way, not really, but seeing her now…

"Michael." He whispered the name softly, heard an almost immediate flutter of wings.

"Are you sure?"

"He said she's worthless. Just take her. Fix her up." He heard the sound of the cuffs clinking on the floor as Michael mojo-ed them off, and she murmured something as he lifted her up into his arms. He didn't listen, didn't turn. "Thanks."

Just as he'd suspected, Michael didn't have any more to say to him. Hell, the only three words he _had_ spoken had been dripping with disapproval. He sighed, looked down at the state of his arms, his hands. Honestly, he couldn't really blame the guy. He'd have been pretty disapproving too.

Cas came in 15 minutes later, let the screen door slam and came into the living room to find Dean sprawled on a blood stained sofa, listening to the radio. His eyes flickered toward the library, and Dean could catch the burn in them when he saw that the desk was empty.

"The girl?"

He flicked the radio off, sat up and let his boots hit the floor with a thud. "Michael." He tried to say it easier than he felt, as if his throat wasn't dry as hell.

"Right." His jaw clenched, muscle jerking. He stooped, swept the bag up onto his shoulder and stormed out the door without really waiting for Dean to follow. He did, slowly, and from the way Cas loaded the car with such goddamn force, he could feel whatever progress he'd made slipping like sand through his fingers.

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Chapter 7, finally! I hope you guys enjoyed it, and I _promise_ next update won't be so far away. ^^


	8. Chapter 8

My muse loves me lately. Everything's coming so nice and easy…*cuddles it*. Whatever I've been feeding it, I need it to keep behaving like this, LOL

Warning…the middle-ish part of this chapter is pretty…unhappy.

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Castiel threw the bag down on the bed, almost growling in frustration. "That was _worthless_."

Dean shrugged, went to the sink and started scrubbing the dried blood off his arms he hadn't been able to rub off with the rag. "Coulda told you she didn't know anything, Cas. There's no hunter left alive that was there for that, and I'm pretty sure no one heard the exact story that wasn't involved at the time."

Cas turned and punched the wall, left a crumbling dent that he quickly turned away from. "I want that Winchester gospel."

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that. He'd never read the final thing for himself, but he was pretty sure Chuck had made it…interesting. As far as he could see, it'd actually be a _good_ thing for Cas to read it. The later chapters had to be absolutely packed with the two of them, and he was confidant Chuck wouldn't have been stupid enough to give Lucifer's exact position. At least, he hoped so. He shook his hands off and wiped them against his jeans, turned to lean against the counter and face Cas. "Alright. Think we can get you that."

Cas nodded, paced the length of the room once before digging his keys out and heading back toward the door.

"Whoa, hey, right now? Seriously, man, we just got back."

"I didn't ask you to come." He yanked open the door, barely called back over his shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone this time."

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When he came back Dean was on the bed, watching TV. He'd changed out of the bloody clothes from the farmhouse into some of Cas' clothes, a worn t-shirt and jeans. He gritted his teeth, pointedly ignored the heat that sparked under his skin at the sight. He slammed the bottle in the paper bag down on the table a little harder than necessary, making it shake.

That, _that_ was part of why he needed a drink. The man was attractive but he shouldn't have seemed irresistible. And it shouldn't have been so hard to try and stop thinking about those damn visions. Yeah, he _definitely_ needed _several_ drinks. He pulled the bottle out of the sack, not surprised when Dean commented.

"Can't say I've ever seen a demon get drunk before."

"Then you've never spent much time around them. Use your head, Dean. It's a practice society condemns, why wouldn't we be all for it?" He untwisted the top and drank right from the bottle, relished the burn as it slid down his throat.

"Hey, _I_ don't condemn it." Castiel yanked out a chair and sat down at the table, titled the bottle back to take another sip. Across the room he heard the TV shut off, the mattress creaking as Dean got up. He showed up at his elbow pretty quick, nudging his shoulder and holding out two plastic cups. "Here. Easier than drinkin' from the bottle."

"And you want some, hm? Aren't you afraid of what you might tell me?"

Dean shoved the paper bag off in the floor, sat down across from him and put the cups in the center by the bottle. "You gonna pour?"

Castiel chuckled, shook his head as he poured. "You _are_ fascinating, I'll give you that." He took his, downed it quickly and was surprised when Dean did the same. He grinned, let his eyes blaze. "I wouldn't try to keep up if I were you."

Dean smirked, pushed the cup back toward him. "Is that a challenge?"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"-so I let her off the rack, and she went over, get her first assignment, and-" Cas stopped, knocked back the rest of his drink. "Bitch on the rack's her own granddaughter, and she doesn't even _know_!" He laughed almost uncontrollably at the memory. Damn, but it had been priceless. She'd gone right up to her and hacked into her chest with a goddamn butcher knife, never knowing the screaming woman under her blade was her own flesh and blood.

Dean shook his head, tapped his empty cup on the table. "You got some fucked up drinking stories, man, you know that? Most people don't talk about _hell_ just for kicks."

"Well…" Cas picked up the bottle, held it expectantly in the air and waited for Dean to push his cup forward so he could pour his first. "What else have I got to talk about, hm? It's not as if my life has consisted of anything else. Hell, and here. And that's it."

It was two hours later, and they'd more than put a pretty good dent in the bottle. It was over half empty, and they'd been keeping up with each other on pretty much equal footing. They weren't plastered either, and though Castiel knew he was well into drunk, he was hoping Dean was at least a little farther gone. Enough that he wouldn't notice, just in case he mentioned the visions again. They were tugging incessantly at the back of his mind, plaguing him with questions and impossibilities.

Dean's smile faded, and he only took a sip before easing his cup back onto the table. "That _isn't_ all, you know. You had a life. With us." He cleared his throat, turned sideways in his chair to lean back against the wall. "Like this time right after it was over, the Apocalypse and all that shit, we ah, we went to Bobby's." He turned his head, looked right at Cas with something like hope in his eyes. "He was a hunter too, remember? Like family for me and Sam. Anyway, so we went out to his place for his birthday, and Sam, he was convinced the old guy was lonely, and he'd lost his dog a few years back to this black eyed bitch so…" Dean looked down, his smile easing back as he remembered. Something about him looked…different when he smiled. Almost…pretty, if he let himself think of it like that. Right now, the thought just wandered through his head and he didn't have much choice. "Sam got him this puppy, German Shepherd. He was all legs, clumsy little fucker, but he was cute, you know, and Bobby bitched about having a puppy in the house but we knew he liked him. We stayed there about a week and I was helping Bobby work on an old Chevy he'd just got, and you'd bring Tucker out back to the salvage yard and throw his ball for him while I worked. When he got tired you'd pick him up, let him sleep on my jacket when I wasn't lookin' cause you knew I'd just pretend like it annoyed the crap out of me." His smile widened, reaching his eyes. "Workin' on the car I had the doors torn off and we were in the backseat while Bobby and Sam were out and things were just gettin' good and that damn puppy comes hopping in pawing at you, wanting you to play fetch with him…" Dean laughed, downed the rest of his drink. "God, I wanted to kill you. Or him. You liked him, though. Almost got you a dog after that, but we were still huntin' too much. Kinda wish I would have."

Dean twitched a little, snapped out of his own thoughts and grabbed the bottle, poured more for both of them. He cleared his throat, swirled the whisky around in his cup. "So…see? Simple story, no torture involved. No hell in any form. And you were there."

"So you say." Cas took half his drink, leaned closer over the table. "Macchion says you're dangerous."

Dean laughed once, sharp, and he tossed back his drink before pushing his cup to the side, leaning over the table to get closer too. "Yeah, he would think that. Cause he knows everything, that son of a bitch, and he wants to keep us apart. But he's not gonna do it. I won't _let_ him do it."

"He says you're dangerous for me. He said it again today, asked if you were still following me." And he'd told him no, of course. It was easy enough to lie to him, easier all the time because there was so _much_ about all of this shit he still didn't understand.

Dean edged just a little closer, one arm stretched out across the table. This close, his eyes were mesmerizing. "And what'd you tell him? Hm?" Something in the way his lips moved when he talked… His hand went out a little clumsily, his thumb swiping over Dean's bottom lip. He felt warm breath against his skin, sharp, and Dean went utterly still. His green eyes widened, amusingly shocked. "_Cas_?"

He pulled his hand away slow, shrugged. "Your mouth is… I was distracted." Something lit in his eyes, fierce, and Dean was across the table and kissing him in almost the blink of an eye. Castiel turned his head, pushed him back hard enough to make him stumble. He landed sprawled on the floor at his feet, and he could see just how he was struggling to keep from looking disappointed. His shirt had ridden up when he fell and he could see a thin strip of skin just above his jeans, enough to send a fresh wave of heat through his veins. Cas laughed, finished off his drink. "I'm not _that_ drunk. But on the other hand…" He shifted in his seat enough to face Dean's position better, rubbed at the faint bulge in his jeans. "If you were going to put that mouth to good use…." He licked his lips, felt his cock swell a little more. "Come _here_." It was no longer a question, but it didn't matter. By the look on his face, he was more than sure Dean would've responded anyway.

He rose up to his knees, reached out to push Castiel's hand away and pull down the zipper. He leaned in, rubbed his cheek against him over his boxers and Cas growled, shoved at his shoulder. "Get on with it."

"Whatever you say." He muttered the words quick under his breath, reached up pull him out of his boxers. He was half hard already, and the first feel of Dean's tongue wrapping around the tip had his him swelling to full length, one hand tightening against the edge of the table. Dean pulled back just a little, his eyes flicking up to meet Castiel's. They were full of lust and awe and something else that just _shouldn't_ be there. Certainly not after everything he'd done to discourage it. He kept their eyes locked, leaned in to take the tip in his mouth again. He sucked hard, laved his tongue against the slit. It felt _unbelievably_ good, better even than it should have, and he threw his head back and moaned, his fingers burying themselves in Dean's short, soft hair.

He felt Dean's hand push his shirt up, the pad of his thumb rubbing gently against his side and he slapped his hand away, rough. "_No_." He couldn't let him touch him, not like that. That was crossing another line, making this something it couldn't be. Right now, it was just sex, just a warm mouth to suck him off. It couldn't be anything else, even if he hadn't been able to get those damn _eyes_ out of his head.

_I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You._

He growled, pushed the memory out of his mind and tightened his hand on the back of Dean's head. Finally, he obliged without trying for more. He kept his eyes down, widened his mouth and took him all the way in, his tongue stroking against the underside as he swallowed. Cas shifted his grip, thrust slightly into his mouth as a low, greedy moan escaped his throat. _Fuck_, but this felt good. He pulled off, slow, moved off entirely to lick up the side, hot breath on damp skin making his hips rock impatiently against the air. When he took him in his mouth again he fell into a rhythm, head bobbing slow, taking the time to put just the right amount of pressure with his tongue. Before he realized it his grip had loosened and he stroked the back of his neck, felt Dean moan around him in response.

The vibration was too good to resist, and he came hard, his hips snapping up as he groaned. Dean let him slide from his mouth slowly, lapping the last bit of moisture from the tip as he let go. Castiel shuddered, sagged almost boneless in the chair. He felt wired, a low hum buzzing somewhere in his chest. He'd never gotten off this hard as far back as he could remember, and it was almost drugging. He licked his lips, felt the way his breath came heavy, his chest still heaving. Yeah, that was _good_. If nothing else, Dean was useful. He blinked, opened his eyes and rolled his neck, looked down at him.

He was still kneeling on the floor, the heel of one hand rubbing slow and insistent against the bulge in his own jeans. His eyes were burning, lit, and he was outright _smiling_. He looked far too fucking pleased with himself. Cas' jaw clenched, anger stirring heatedly in his chest. He controlled it, leaned forward and stroked a hand against Dean's cheek. "Not bad, Dean. Not bad at all." He grinned, shrugged as he let his hand fall. "Not as good as _him_, of course…but not bad."

Just like he'd expected Dean jerked back, sharp hurt and anger flooding his eyes. "Right." He was on his feet pretty quick, a slight stumble the only thing that showed he'd had a little too much to drink. He went to the door, and he was pulling it open before Cas could put the words together to stop him.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

He laughed, bitter, turned around and spread his hands open wide, questioning. "I don't know, Cas, where the hell _am_ I going? Jesus, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, is it? I've got _no one_ here. Just you." He laughed again, turned back to the still half open door and yanked it wide. "So don't worry, I'll be back. I don't have any choice."

He slammed the door, the sound deafening, and Cas pushed up out of the chair, violently overturned the table. It wasn't enough, but throwing the chair against the wall wasn't either. He sat down heavily on the bed, one hand rubbing over the knuckles of his fist.

Seeing the pain in Dean's eyes hadn't been as satisfying as he'd expected it to be. If anything, he just felt angrier.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Hey, can I get another over here?" Dean flagged down the bartender, loud and impatient. He hadn't drunk enough yet to make himself forget, and the hole in his chest just seemed to be growing. Just to his right, the girl who'd been trying her damndest to get his attention for the past hour smiled, leaning in to the bar to give him a better view down her shirt.

"Last one, pal, ok? Think you've had enough."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He muttered at the bartender, shoved his credit card toward him and downed the shot. Finished, he looked over at the blonde. She was looking up at him from under those fake eyelashes, all heat and desire. Her tits were definitely more than adequate, and she was advertising plainly enough. She clearly knew what she was asking for, and didn't seem the type that would mind if it was over nice and quick and a little rough. Perfect.

He stood up, a little unsteady, held his hand out to her. "Coming?"

She grinned, poisonous, stepped in to wrap herself around his arm. The press of her breasts against his arm was distracting, and he barely remembered to reach back over and snag his credit card as they walked away from the bar. He took her back out in the alley, had her pressed up against the wall and kissing messily before she could protest. He didn't want to hear her tell him they could go back to her place, didn't even want to go to her fucking car. He just wanted to get this _done_.

He got her shirt half open, palmed her breasts until she moaned and he knew he was hard enough to get on with it. He tugged his zipper down, tried a couple times before he managed to push her skirt up, half picking her up with an arm around her waist to pin her between him and the wall. He slid a hand between them, ready to position himself, God, she wasn't even wearing any underwear. Convenient. He slid in easy, grunted at the heat. It had been a _long_ time since he'd been with a woman, and she was nice and wet and so _warm_. She wasn't as tight as he was used to, not even for a girl, but he didn't really care. She moaned, pulled him into another sloppy kiss before whispering something in his ear about how _hot_ he'd looked while she'd been watching him in the bar. He wished she'd just shut up.

He was a little hazy from all the alcohol but even so it was over pretty fast. He finished first but she was right behind him, and he pulled out as soon as she was done, stepping back to stuff himself back in his pants. She practically slithered forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he let until he couldn't stand the taste of her anymore. He turned his head only somewhat obviously, rubbed her shoulder a little awkwardly and said something he wasn't entirely sure of before he stumbled off.

He made it almost back to the motel before he staggered into another alley, slumped against the brick and let himself slid to the ground, sick with guilt. He'd actually done it, actually _fucked_ her, and the whole time the only thing he'd been thinking was how goddamn much he wanted to hurt Cas by doing it. He wanted him to _know_, wanted him to feel something like the fucking landslide he felt everytime that bastard came up. Truth was, this wouldn't hurt Cas at all. As things were, he wouldn't even give a damn, but later? Yeah, later it would probably mess him up pretty good. Here he was, supposed to be _fixing_ things, and he just kept screwing up even worse.

"Jesus…" He rubbed the heels of his hands into eyes, suddenly exhausted and a little more sober. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel the greasy slide of too much lipstick. He missed the taste of _Cas_, the way he'd felt on his tongue earlier that night, the way Cas had moaned when he sucked him down. No matter what he'd said afterward, Dean knew now he never should have left that room. For a minute, Cas had almost been vulnerable. Now…now, he'd blown it. _Again_.

"Do you feel better, Dean?"

He didn't even look up, just let a broken laugh rise from his throat. "Just go away, Michael."

"Dean, I know what he said hurt, but I believe you-"

"Just _go away_, will you?" He struggled to his feet, shoved Michael's arm violently away when he offered his hand to help him up. "Either you bring that fucker _here,_" He jabbed his finger into the empty air between them, his voice almost shaking with fury, "and you let me tear his sorry ass apart, or you get the hell away from me. Understand?"

Michael looked at for a split second, far too much pity and understanding. "Understood." He disappeared with the sound of flapping wings, and Dean leaned back against the wall and let his knees fold, sinking down onto the dirty concrete once again.

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He woke up in the alley to the sound of a crow cawing, loud and annoyingly close. He winced, pressed his palm to his temple and swore softly. He was stiff and he felt like shit and he was pretty sure he smelled like the dumpster just a few feet away. And now that it was morning and he was painfully sober, the guilt that he'd started to feel the night before came on in full force.

He sat up carefully, stretched against protesting muscles and blinked until the light didn't seem so harsh anymore. It was still early, couldn't have been much past sunrise, and though he was tired as fuck he was glad he hadn't slept later. As it was, Cas was probably already wondering where he was. He got gingerly to his feet, straightened his jacket and ruffled his fingers through his hair once before stepping out into the sunlight.

It was a short walk to the motel and he was there before he wanted to be, still unsure exactly what the hell he was going to say. He didn't _have_ to say anything, he knew that all too well, but if this had been before, if things had been like they should've been between them, then he wouldn't have had had a choice but to say something, and that was exactly why he needed to now. He was trying, dammit, and treating Cas as normally as he could was the best he could do. And maybe, _maybe_ it was making a little tiny dent.

He patted his jeans down, realized he'd taken off last night without the key. _Fucking perfect, Dean. Great job._ He hesitated, banged hard on the door with his fist. He heard a little bit of shuffling from inside, but it was just a few seconds before Cas answered, pulling the door open and walking away, back toward the bed where it looked like he'd been cleaning a couple of guns.

"Been up awhile, huh?" A pitiful attempt at small talk, and Cas gave him a slight shrug, picked up the gun he was working on and continued. He pretty desperately needed a shower, need to at _least_ brush his teeth, and he almost started toward the bathroom, but he stopped himself. If he didn't get this out now, he'd never say it, and his conscious was bugging him that it needed to be said. "Cas, I'm sorry."

He looked up, his hands pausing on the gun, eyebrows raised.

"Look, I know you don't give a shit, but I went out to this bar and fucked some Barbie clone but I was drunk and fucked up and I shouldn't have done it and I _know-_" He raised his voice, responding to the 'like a give a fuck' look Cas was giving him. "I know you _really_ don't give a rat's ass right now, but I do. And you _will_. And dammit, I'm _sorry_, ok? I'm sorry."

Cas laughed, shook his head and looked back down at the gun. "No. Go ahead, fuck whoever you want. I definitely don't give a rat's ass."

Dean his fingers through his hair, helpless, tried to pretend it didn't hurt. "Yeah. I know you don't." That done, he headed over toward the bathroom so he could get a shower and actually feel like something approaching human again, but Cas stopped him.

"I got you breakfast. Over there." He froze, eyes darting over to the paper bag on the table by the window. An actual honest to God McDonald's bag, with _coffee_ no less. With the shit he'd been living off the past few days it looked like the fucking food of the gods and he practically darted over to it, ripping the sack open. He pulled out the sausage biscuit, barely getting the wrapper open before he took a bite. It tasted incredible, and that would've been amazing enough by itself, let alone combined with the fact that Cas had _voluntarily_ bought him breakfast. Yeah, the guilt was still there, but this was definitely a better start to the day than he'd expected. He took another bite, turned to talk to Cas with his mouth still full.

"Thanks, Cas."

"I was going anyway, it's not like I did it for you." Even so, there was no real malice in his voice, and that felt good. Dean sat down at the table, kicked back in the chair and took a sip of his coffee. "So…" Cas finished with the gun, folded the cloth in his hands. "Where are we going?"

"You askin' me? Dude, I have no idea. You're the one with the 'find the Devil' plan anyway."

Cas looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Did you not tell me you could get me a copy of the Winchester gospel?"

"Well, yeah, but I meant, I can _get_ you one, if you get me to a hunter's house that's got a good library. I mean," He broke off, took another bite of his biscuit. "You and Sam got Bobby's after he died, but after you died I don't know who you'd've given it too, so I _would_ say go after all those books, but there's no way of knowing who they got passed down to. We do know, though, that this Caroline chick had a copy. If you know where she lives-"

"Then you can get the book. Right. Well I don't, but Macchion does. I'll be right back." He pulled his phone out, got up and went out the front door. He went all the way to the other end of the parking lot before he made his call, and Dean couldn't help but be a little pissed that he always felt like he had to leave the room to call the guy.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Thought for sure we'd be here until you finished with those caves."

"Searching is…tedious."

"Meaning you're bored. Man, you were never this ADD before."

Cas cut his eyes at him shifted the wheel to one hand. "Shut up."

"Whatever." Dean leaned back against the door, unfolded the map to examine it more closely. "Agency, Iowa, huh? Geez, this place is in bumfuck nowhere." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cas almost smile. "Plus, I'm starting to think all the good hunters come out of the Midwest. What's up with the rest of the country?"

"Maybe it's because people out there have nothing else to do."

"Very funny, asshole." He bit his tongue, tried not to show how much he was enjoying this. God, this kind of banter was almost _normal_, but he was pretty sure if Cas knew how much progress this was, he'd do something to counter it. Still, as long as he was pressing his advantage…"Hey, we really gotta drive 500 something miles without music?" He dropped the map into his lap, brought his hand over to hover over the dial.

Cas hesitated, finally shrugging. "Suit yourself. Long as it isn't shit."

"Oh trust me, I don't listen to shit." He turned it on, fiddled with the tuner until he found miraculously found Foreigner playing on a classic rock station. He turned it up, grinned. "Man, _this_ was when music was good."

"Practically ancient history, now."

"I mean I'm sure some of the new stuff isn't bad, but it doesn't have the creativity these guys had, you know?" He waited, experimentally rolled his window halfway down. Cas rolled his eyes, smacked the power windows button with one hand and put them all down.

"Humans are so easily amused."

"Look who's talkin', 'I like to do things just cause society doesn't'."

For a second he honestly smiled, and that was enough to make Dean hope. Maybe a little too much.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

So this chapter's a little shorter, but that felt like a good place to end it(and, I wanted to get this up before I have to go to lab…and actually give myself time to do my lab report beforehand. XD)


	9. Chapter 9

Finally, the return of To Reign In Hell! :D Took long enough, I know…T.T

Also…I already knew how this ended when I started it, but I think you guys'll be happy to know I actually got an outline down this morning for everything that's left(which I've never done for a fic before, but I wanted to make sure I everything in the right order timewise, lol), and we're really not too far away from the end…and also, one of the scenes I had in mind when I first started writing this story is coming up in a chapter or two, so I'm excited about that. ^^

* * *

Outside of St. Louis, Cas pulled into a diner. Dean had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, and he woke to Cas' hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

"Mm? Yeah?"

"Get up if you want to eat."

There was definitely no doubt about that. He sat up quick, blinking a little to get his bearings before opening the door and pulling himself out of the car. Cas was already inside, in a booth near the back corner he could see from the window. Inside he took the seat across from him, smiling at the waitress that stepped up to greet them.

" 'Evening. What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"Well, I can think of a few things." Flirting rolled off of his tongue as easy as breathing, and a natural reaction he'd never been able to control even when they'd _really_ been together before. It had bothered Cas sometimes, he knew, but he'd always been faithful and deep down Cas had known he'd meant nothing by it, even if he had felt the need to remind Dean where his priorities were if a particular woman seemed too interested. It had never been an issue, really, and that combined with the fact that just a few hours ago Cas had seemed incredulous at the idea of him being jealous over Dean screwing some chick in an alley, the last thing he would've expected was for Cas to be bothered by _this_.

Still, unmistakable anger flashed in his eyes, dark and just short of violent, and even though it could be nothing but a _good_ sign, Dean almost shivered. Cas caught her eyes, and even though his didn't burn orange Dean could tell that _something_ about him tipped her off enough to make her uneasy, not that she'd ever realize why. "Black coffee for both us. You can handle that?"

She stammered a little, finally getting a yes out before she turned away and all but scampered off toward the kitchen.

Dean leaned back in the booth, laying one arm across the back of the seat. "_Really_?"

Cas glanced up quick, his eyes cutting back down to his menu. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh you don't, huh? I don't know, maybe the 'I can kill you with my mind' stare you just gave that poor girl?"

He shrugged, eyes still scanning over the menu, looking relaxed and bored. "Still don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." It was dripping with sarcasm, but really he couldn't have been more pleased. Possessiveness could only mean that Cas was at least interested enough in him to want to keep Dean as _his_. That was promising. All in all, things were looking up. He sat sideways in the seat, leaning against the wall and pulling one leg up to rest his arm across his knee. "So before I fell asleep I was checkin' out the map we got at that gas station awhile back, and it looks like there's this place called Meramec Caverns a ways out from here." Cas looked up at that and Dean shrugged. "It's worth a look, while we're in the area. We might as well."

Cas slid the menu shut, leaned across the table on his elbows to study Dean closer. "The fact that you mentioned it tells me we don't need to. It's empty."

"Or I'm bluffing." They stared each other down steadily, the moment only broken when the waitress returned to set two cups of coffee down between them. Cas shook his head, breaking the connection to pick up his coffee.

"If you weren't useful, I'd kill you for being such a pain in the ass."

"So you keep saying." He pushed his luck a little, smirking before he took a drink from his own cup. He watched Cas raise his to his lips, fought the urge to grin wider when he made a face and pulled away, setting it down. "First time tryin' coffee this time around, huh?"

He scowled at it, pushing it away and ignoring the question.

"Wrong time for it, for you."

"I seriously doubt it would taste any better in the morning."

Dean laughed, real and open. "Well, that depends on what we do before the morning." He took another drink of his own cup, still smiling. "Trust me, Cas, you like coffee. Just under different circumstances, and more dressed up than this. You're more like Sam, in that respect." He dragged the menu away from Cas without asking, tried not to smile at the fact that Cas didn't try to take it back. "So, we going?"

He hesitated before he nodded, one hand tapping impatiently against the table. "Alright. We'll check it out."

"Excellent." He glanced over the diner food briefly, spun the menu back to Cas across the table without paying much attention. "Think I want extra bacon." Cas huffed impatiently, and for just awhile, everything felt almost like home.

* * *

Cas kicked the door shut behind himself, scowling.

"Oh c'mon, you don't have to be such a dick about it. Least this way you know for _sure_."

Castiel shoved past him hard enough to knock him into the wall, but it wasn't near as violent as it could've been. "I could still kill you."

"I hope you know that gets less threatening every time you say it."

Cas tossed his bags down on top of the low dresser, muttering about wasting time. Still, Dean had seen him _angry_, and this wasn't it. Annoyed, sure, but he wasn't full blown _demon_ pissed, and Dean wasn't worried. He flipped back onto the bed, groaning as he bounced against the stiff mattress. He'd gotten _way_ too used to actually sleeping comfortably in Heaven. Motel beds sucked, but considering he'd grown up on them he'd never really noticed that before. It was sometime after 3 in the morning and he was pretty damn exhausted, and he just barely bothered to kick off his boots before he slid under the comforter, curling onto his side to face the wall.

He felt the bed sink as Cas sat down beside him, a somewhat fresh whiskey bottle in one hand and the remote in the other. Dean sighed, rolled over and his back and nudged Cas in the side, carefully. "You really gonna do this?"

"As opposed to…?"

"Sleep. You know, actually shutting down for a few a damn hours."

"I don't-"

"Well you _did_. C'mon, it's a human indulgence, that's gotta be right up your alley, right? I mean, you guys are all for whatever pleasure you can grab and after a long day, sleep feels pretty damn good, I promise." At first he was pretty sure he wasn't going to listen and he rolled back over, resigned.

A few minutes later he heard the TV shut off, the mattress creaking as Cas slid down in the bed, settling in and facing away from him without a word.

* * *

_Dean practically tackled him onto the bed, breath rushing out of his chest as he landed underneath him. Dean's lips were on his before he could take a proper breath, and by the time Dean took a break from fucking his mouth with his tongue he felt just a little dizzy. _

_He burned everywhere Dean's body pressed his to the bed, a pure, strong current underneath his skin. Dean's mouth trailed down, wet and almost obscenely hot against neck, and he could hear the low rasp to his voice when he gasped Dean's name. _

"_Fuck, Cas…" Dean groaned, already thrusting against him, his teeth catching on soft skin as he panted against his ear. "Goddamit…" They were nowhere near naked, and when Dean reached between them to pull their shirts up and push their jeans down, Cas could feel his hands shake. _

"_Dean…" Dean rubbed his thumbs across his hipbones, just barely yanked his jeans down enough to free his hard length. It sprang up against his stomach, and Dean made a desperate sound low in his throat when he felt the tip brush against his skin, his hips thrusting forward in response. To say his desperation was distracting wouldn't have come close to describing it, but he did his best to force out a coherent sentence anyway, his hands coming up to try and hold Dean still, for a moment. "Dean, I'm sorry, I-"_

"_Never doin' that to me again, you understand me?" The words were hot and low against his skin, wavering, and Dean pushed his shirt up higher, one sweaty palm pressing shakily over his heart. "He was sayin' you were dead, and you wouldn't answer me, and…Jesus, Cas, you are __**never**__-"_

_He was still a little helpless against the sudden onslaught of Dean all over him like that but he pulled himself together enough to take Dean's face in his hands, kissing him into silence. He couldn't stand to hear the panic in his voice anymore, and he shut his eyes and lost himself in the near violence of the way Dean returned his kiss. It had been Sam's idea, making the creature think he was dead so thoroughly that it wouldn't suspect him coming. It could've read the answer out of Dean's mind so he couldn't know, Sam had argued, and at the time the logic had seemed sound. Here, with Dean literally coming apart in his arms, he regretted ever going along with it. They broke apart and he arched his neck in invitation, moaning quietly when Dean attacked the exposed skin voraciously, all tongue and nipping teeth. _

"_Dean…'m sorry…I'm so sorry, Dean, I-"_

"_Stop." He felt the vibration of the word against his skin, let Dean tug his arms up over his head and pin his wrists to the bed with one hand, shifting to squarely blanket his body. Dean's other arm hooked under his back, gripping against his shoulderblade, and he leaned his weight on it as he thrust against him, rough and erratic, curses slipping out under his breath. _

_**He'd**__ done this, hurt Dean so deeply he'd nearly broken him, and he should've known better. After everything they'd been through, Dean couldn't survive losing either of them, not now. He should've been sick with guilt and he could feel it coming, under the surface. For the moment, he didn't have room for anything else but was happening __**now**__, for the way Dean was grinding against him like he'd die if he didn't. They didn't always take things slow by any means, but even so Dean had never taken him like this, dominating and frantic. Dean was all over him, his grip tight against his wrists, and it was all a thousand times hotter than he would've ever imagined. _

_He came with a sharp cry, his body shuddering and going limp, the high so intense he was sure for a second he came close to blacking out…_

Castiel sat up with a gasp, his hands pressing to his temples to stave off the instant throbbing headache. He'd known the visions were growing more powerful, steadily more prominent and effecting, but this was the most jarring yet. Even if the flash headache he'd startled awake with hadn't been enough to tell him it wasn't just a dream, everything else would have.

He could still _feel_ the desperation he'd had in the vision, the guilt and the worry and the clawing insatiable hunger for the man who was now still asleep next to him. Not to mention something else, a foreign heavy weight of fierce protectiveness that had settled in his chest when Dean's hands had shaken against his skin, jumbled thoughts of '_love you so much, so sorry Dean, I'm so sorry'_ accompanying it. 

It was all still with him, fraying his nerves and clamoring in his head for attention and it was _too much_, a rush of information and emotion that he no reference for, no ability to understand. At least, not that he could remember. It was _far_ too much, and rather than try to sort it out or push it away he acted on it, turning to Dean and yanking his body close, trapping his wrists in one hand to pin over his head.

Dean jolted awake, struggled instinctively against his hold before he realized his wrists were bound tight, shoved back close to the headboard. He drew in a sharp breath, his chest heaving with something like fear a couple times before he got it under control. "And here I thought we were past all this. You want something, Cas, all you gotta do is ask." In the dark, he couldn't see Dean's eyes when he spoke but his voice was almost as rough and sleepy as it had been that first time he'd startled him awake, ringing now with just a little more bravado. If he'd learned anything about this man that _hadn't_ come from his visions, it was that typically the stronger he sounded, the more he was masking.

Underneath it, he was probably afraid and Cas growled, angry with no clear direction. He bent his head and took his lips in a forceful kiss, Dean's mouth slack against his for a moment before he responded hungrily, teeth clicking hard together in their impatience. He kept his bruising grip on Dean's wrists, slid his right hand between them to take care of the unfastening their pants, jerking them down just low enough for their cocks to touch. He was rock hard already after the vision, and for a moment after he'd pulled his jeans down first he thought that he might be the only one. The minute he reached for Dean, though, he'd realized that wasn't going to be a problem. Dean was already half hard and swelling fast, his hips jerking up simply at the friction of pulling his pants down lower around his hips.

It wasn't perfect but it was close enough to allow skin on skin, and he brought his arm up to lean on, hooking it under Dean's back to curve against his shoulderblade, nails digging into his skin even through his t-shirt. They kept kissing as he thrust against him, messy and disorganized, his hips grinding harder at every sound Dean made. Even though he'd been hard already from the vision Dean came first, shooting hot against his stomach and moaning desperately into his mouth, the sound sharpening into a cry when Cas bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood as he thrust against him twice more and came, cock pulsing between them.

He rolled off of him immediately, flopping onto his back and panting, arm thrown over his eyes. The air in the motel room was cool and he could feel himself chilling as the thin sheen of sweat across him started to dry. He could hear Dean's equally uneven breath next to him, heavy in the silence.

"Cas…holy _shit_, Cas, what the hell was-"

"Shut _up_." The ravenous hunger he'd been left with after the vision seemed sated, no longer clawing somewhere just behind his ribs, and in the aftermath, he was more confused than ever.

He heard Dean swallow, his breath still ragged. "Cas? You ok, man?"

_No. No, I'm going mad and it's all your fault._ Even then, he didn't feel as angry as he should have. _Something_ was very wrong, and he couldn't help but wonder if he maybe he shouldn't have been listening to Macchion closer all along. Something was happening to him, and at the moment he couldn't even focus his thoughts well enough be properly upset about that fact. "Just leave me alone. Go to sleep, Dean."

The mattress shifted, and he jerked back violently when he felt Dean's hand brush against his arm. "Sorry." His voice was small, a little wounded though it was plain he tried to hide it. "Sure you're ok?"

"I _said_ go to sleep, dammit. I didn't wake you up to _talk_, did I? Trust me, that's not what you're good for." He lashed out easily, without a thought. That was more familiar, everything he was used to.

"No. You're right, you didn't." The springs creaked, and he heard the sounds of Dean zipping his pants up, pulling his boots on in the dark.

It annoyed it more than it should have, fury flaring hot in his chest. He clenched his fists until he felt blood run down to his wrists and he growled, angry and inhuman. "Running away again, Dean? You didn't seem so upset a few minutes ago. In fact, you-"

"Yeah, well a few minutes ago I thought I was having sex with somebody else. But I was wrong, and I'm goin' out. Got a problem with that, you can kiss my ass."

He _did_ have a problem with that, but he was confused as all hell and he could've never put words to what exactly the problem was. He knew only that he didn't want Dean to go, not after that, but he couldn't _tell_ him that. "You're very good at avoidance, Dean, you know that? You know, even if you _are_ right about everything else, how'd we get here, hm? You run out on that too?"

In the dark he heard him coming before he felt it, Dean's hand closing with surprising force around his throat. "Don't you say that. Don't you _dare_." He collected himself quickly enough, yanking his hand back like it had shot forward without his permission. He could hear him take a few breaths to steady himself, accompanied by the sound of boots scuffing on cheap carpet. "You want me stay, you _ask_ me, and I will. But whatever's goin' on with you, I'm sick of not talkin' about it and just dealing with your random outburst and you treating me like shit most of the rest of the time. And I'll take it from you, I will, and I think you know it, but right now, I gotta get outta here. Unless you ask me stay."

He stretched, rubbed his heels against his eyes. There was still a dull ache from the vision, and the pain sharpened under the pressure, almost nauseating.

Dean didn't wait too long. "Yeah. That's what I thought." He crossed to the door quickly after that, and this time he didn't slam it behind him. Somehow, that was worse.

* * *

When he woke up again, the headache was gone. Dean had pulled one of the flimsy plastic chairs over from the table by the window and he was sitting by the bed, drinking coffee and watching Cas sleep.

"You have any idea how fucking creepy that is?" His voice came out rough and he cleared his throat, blinking to clear his head. He honestly couldn't remember ever sleeping before, but Dean had been right. It was definitely a human pleasure, and it was _nice_. Waking up, on the other hand, he'd have rather skipped.

Dean laughed, soft, and a little bit of a real smile showed on his face. "Yeah, I do actually. You used to do it all the time." He ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek, tapped his thumb against the side of his cup before he sat it down, looking up to meet Castiel's eyes. "Look, I'm gonna just get this out pretty quick, so keep your mouth shut for a minute, huh?"

At this point, hearing him out could only give him more information. He said nothing, just drew one knee up to his chest to rest his arm on, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Right. Well first off, I'm sorry. I left, and pretty much right after I wished I hadn't done it, but I was already out and drivin' and I didn't want to come back empty handed so…" He gestured at the cups on the nightstand, looking down. "It's just like…5:30 or something like that here. Only been gone an hour or so, couldn't really stay away. Here." He picked up the other cup, turned it in his hand a minute before holding it out. "See, there's this whole 'cigarettes are awesome after sex' thing that so many people seem to buy into, but you were more of a post-sex coffee drinker than smoker, cause you just had do everything ass backwards." He smiled a little, remembering, and he held the cup out a little farther. "Go on, take it, you'll like it I promise. They don't make your favorite anymore apparently but I think this is close. Something like the one Sam always liked, at least."

Whether he liked it or not, it couldn't hurt. He took it slowly, wrapped his hand around the cup and took a drink, a little surprised at how _good_ it tasted, how nice the warmth was in the back of throat. He licked his lips, his grip on the cup tightening in frustration. "You don't know everything about me, Dean."

Dean nodded, careful. "No, you got me there. I don't know everything about you, Cas. You told me a few stories but I don't really know what your life was like as angel, and even having been there myself I don't know exactly what you went through in hell. But I still know you pretty damn well, and you know what else?" Their eyes met, and he could see the spark of Dean's eyes. "I think you're remembering. _Really_ remembering, and I think you know it now, too. And maybe it scares the shit out of you, and that's ok, but you sure as hell know something, cause all of that last night? I'm pretty damn sure something almost just like that happened in Washington, Louisiana a long time ago, after you and Sam tricked me and that thing we think was a Kobold into thinkin' you were dead, and I came pretty close to goin' crazy until I found out you were ok. But I think you know that, don't you? You _remember_, I know you do. And I shouldn't've left last night, I know, I just wanted you to tell me the truth, and when you didn't…" He shook his head, looking down at his hands. "I'm not used to stuff like this, Cas. We never fought much but when we did, I could kinda do the same thing, get away for awhile. It was always that way with Sammy, too. I'd want a little space from him for all of five minutes but it never lasted. I'd always come back, and that goes for this too. It's just…this is just hard for me, you know?"

Up until then he'd actually been listening, realizing that yeah, maybe he wasn't gonna make heads or tails of everything that had forced its way into his head until he told Dean what he'd seen, asked him for more of what he knew. That last bit, though, had been enough to spark his temper. "This is hard for _you_?" He laughed, let the coffee drop and shoved himself to his feet, catching Dean's collar and yanking him up with him. "I don't automatically tell you every goddamn thing, and you think that makes this hard for _you_?" He shoved him back hard, enough that he ended up more than an arms length away, though he managed to stay on his feet. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe _I didn't want to know_?"

Dean stood his ground, undaunted. "So I'm right. You _are _remembering."

"And what if I am?!" His voice rose, loud and angry and echoing. "What the hell difference do you think it makes, Dean? Do you _really_ think that me remembering whatever we were before is going to make any real difference now? You said it yourself last night, Dean…the man you're thinking of, he's someone else."

Dean stepped up to him, refusing to leave an inch between them even when Castiel grappled with him, tried without much force behind it to push him away. "That's not true, Cas, you're right here, dammit! Look, it's hard, I can't imagine how hard, but once you start remembering some of it, then-"

"_That_, that right there is your problem! What did you think was going to happen, hm? I remember and I'm suddenly washed clean? It doesn't work that way, you _idiot_! I'm…" He choked on it a little, everything that had been banging around in his head unspoken for the last day or so finally coalescing into words. "I'm a monster. I'm a monster, and I was ok with that. For what I've become, what I _am_ I need to have nothing else, to _remember_ nothing else. Because this, whatever you're doing to me…" He clenched his fist, furious, felt the room shake with his anger. "It's not natural, and it's not helping, and the man I keep seeing myself as, it's not who I am. Not anymore."

He was watching carefully enough to see Dean flinch at that, just a little, but he hid it quick, and by the time he looked up at Cas his eyes were carefully guarded. "Maybe not yet, but you can be. And you will, I know that. I _know_ it. Just like I know pissed you are right now, you're still not gonna kill me."

That much was true, at least. He _had_ been affected, but only enough to make himself miserable. Still, that was one of the side effects of all of this insanity. He was sure that even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to kill Dean, not now. If he'd done it in the beginning he'd have managed fine, but now…

"Macchion was right about you. You're going to destroy me."

His eyes softened at that, too much genuine emotion for him to see without feeling sick. "No, I'm not, Cas. I'm gonna take you home."

"Even if I can't kill you, _he_ could."

"Well, that's a risk I'm willing to take."

* * *

By the time they stopped for lunch in Quincy, Illinois, it seemed like Cas was going to pretend they'd never talked about it at all. It wasn't ideal, but Dean supposed it was better than him dwelling on it. he was definitely sure they'd fight about it again, soon in all likelihood, but for the moment things were quiet, and he was grateful for that. No matter how angry Cas was, this was incredible progress, and it seemed like his brain couldn't decide whether to be ecstatically happy at the thought that this just might work after all or to be terrified of the fact that he was essentially walking on eggshells. Whatever tentative _something_ he was building with Cas was fragile as all hell, and he knew beyond all doubt if at any moment he pushed too hard, the whole thing was likely to cave in on him. He needed to keep pushing, sure, but _so_ carefully.

He was watching, waiting, trying to be ready to judge when something might go wrong so he could be ready to deal with it before it got too bad. It was for that reason that he was able to see danger coming just before it hit, but it was nothing he ever could've avoided.

They were eating out a picnic table by the cars, burgers with double meat and extra cheese and chocolate shakes, and for a few minutes Cas seemed almost as relaxed as he had been the day before, slipping into telling Dean some story about a woman whose child he'd helped steal on behalf of Moloch.

The change in him was sudden, Cas' eyes blazing orange, narrowing to study the woman that had just stepped into the parking lot. His whole body went instantly tense, and before he even knew what was going on Dean felt the sick sweep of dread settle into his stomach. He wasn't tense in fear, not at all. He looked more a mirror of a birddog that's just sighted prey, and _that_ meant nothing good.

Dean cut his eyes to the side, a litany of curses starting up in his head when he realized the woman who'd frozen stock still in the parking lot was looking at Cas almost exactly the same way he was at her. "Cas? What's-"

They both lunged forward at the same time, and Dean barely had time to realize _he_ was flying through the air, too. His back connected hard with a nearby maple tree, an invisible force keeping him there, pressed into the bark and apparently out of the line of fire. Or, just unable to get the way. Which it was supposed to have been, he wasn't certain, though he honestly didn't want to know.

He watched, helpless, as they clashed in the center of the parking lot. Her wings flared from her shoulders suddenly, cream and white and magnificent in the sunlight. The noise Cas made then was feral, _evil_, and Dean watched as he rolled his shoulders, flexing the muscles. They were there, then, the things that his wings should've been. There was nothing more left now than jagged bone, snapped off close to the joint. An all too vivid picture came to mind then of just _how_ that could've happened, and in his head he could hear Cas scream as his wings were ripped from him. He bit his tongue and tasted iron, clenched his eyes shut tight when he heard the girl scream the first time.

When he heard _Cas_ cry out, he couldn't keep from looking any longer. He watched as they fought, equal parts mesmerized and horrified by Cas' power. The angel was strong, no mistake about that, and she managed to get Cas in a headlock once or twice, white light burning bright from her fingers as she tried to burn him out of existence. Every time he twisted away, seeming almost entirely unscathed. He fought like a wild thing, all brute force and violence, and when he finally wrestled her blade from her hand and ran her through with it, Dean wasn't surprised.

He stabbed her in the stomach, holding it in place and watching her stammer a moment before he let go, his hands wet with blood when he turned away. A horrified crowed was pressed up against the window panes inside, watching, and in the distance Dean could hear sirens. The police would be here any minute.

The pressure on his chest released him and he fell to the ground, coughing a few times before he could take a true full breath. Cas came over slow, and before he looked up he could see the blood dripping into the grass. When he spoke it was ice cold, the voice of the demon Cas had seen in the first cave with Macchion back when this had all started.

"Either get up and come with me, or stay the hell out of my way."

* * *

Ok, so I lied. I did change the timeline, a bit. BUT I think it works better this way(and no, I won't explain it any more clearly than that at the moment, lol).

This chapter was lots and lots of fun, largely because 3 of these were scenes I've been dying to write since the first day I started working on this story. *is very happy*

Sorry it's been so long, but I hope this at least a little made up for the wait!


	10. Chapter 10

I warn you ahead of time, there's some dark shit in here. X.X This is different from how I originally had this chapter planned, but I like it better it's just…yeah. Dark. There's some non-con, and some dub-con, and some torture, and lots of general angsty unhappiness. (Merry Christmas? XD)

* * *

He stalked to the car without looking back, practically throwing himself in the seat before turning to grip the steering wheel, hands sticky with blood. He was seething still, the desire for the hunt risen so sharp in him he could hardly think of _anything_ but getting his hands on another angel. This had been what Macchion had really trained him for, after all.

_You were one of them, and they betrayed you. And now you have the power, Castiel, to kill them all_.

He could, and he'd wanted to, and the rush of actually doing it had felt so unbelievably good it was dizzying. At the same time, his reaction had been more instinct than choice, and under the rage he was more than a little disoriented. The pure _hatred_ had come on so fast, there hadn't been any room for thought, just action. His hands on the blade, her blood on the metal and his skin.

He wasn't sure whether or not he really expected Dean to follow, but his hand hovered over the ignition until the passenger door opened. Dean slammed the door with enough force to shake the car, and he was about to turn the key without looking over when Dean swore, catching his attention.

"Jesus, Cas…" His hand shot up, fingers pressing lightly against his temple, and Castiel reacted on instinct. His hand closed around Dean's wrist to jerk it away, quick and violent, and he heard bone snap before he could even register that he'd lashed out.

He let go slowly, fingers uncurling one at a time. To his credit, Dean didn't cry out, didn't do anything more than suck in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, carefully pull his arm back in against his chest. There was blood on the tips of Dean's fingers from the gash at Castiel's hairline he'd been trying to get a better look at and Castiel looked away, jaw clenching. The blinding rage was still there, but it was fading fast. Feeling the crack of bone under his hand had brought on another force entirely, the fierce weight that came with the visions and the way he'd felt with Dean pinned underneath him the night before.

He gunned the car, sped out of the parking lot and onto the side street behind the parking lot. His hands tightened on the wheel, and he could feel the blood on his palms drying, sticking his hands in place. When he spoke, his voice was measured, low and quiet. "Do you still think you know me, Dean?" He couldn't possibly, not now. And he seriously shouldn't have been feeling any regret over that. Whether he could kill him or not, if Dean would at least _stop trying_, then maybe whatever this was plaguing him would just go away.

" 'Course I know you." He started off a little rough, cleared his throat and kept going. "I mean, c'mon, I'm a hunter. You really think a little broken wrist is gonna phase me? You're pissed as fuck; I get it. I can take a hint." He cut his eyes over, glancing at him. His expression was carefully guarded, impossible to read. For a split second, he wished that he knew him well enough to see what he was _really_ thinking underneath it. "I still know you, Cas. No question about that."

"You're an idiot." He muttered under his breath, slouched down farther in the seat.

"Yeah. Maybe I am." He turned away and leaned against the window after that, and he said nothing for miles. After they'd gone far enough to be certain they weren't being followed Dean wrapped his good hand against the window, pointing out a gas station. "Here. Give me a few minutes."

He stopped, pulling up to a pump. Half a tank left, but it wouldn't hurt.

When Dean got out to head around back to the bathroom, he didn't look back.

* * *

Dean slammed the door a couple of times before he realized it wouldn't stay put. "Friggin' piece of shit." He grumbled impatiently, held the flimsy door shut and drew the even flimsier bolt well above the handle. It'd be pretty much the easiest door to break down of all time, but it would at least give him some privacy for a second.

"_Michael!_" He hissed it quietly, radiating fury. When he showed up, this time he really _was_ gonna deck him whether it got him thrown back against the wall or not. Hell, even if broke something in his left arm doing it, it'd be worth it.

"Dean, you-"

He whirled around at the sound of Michael's voice, shoved back hard on his chest. It didn't move him, of course, but at least it let a little of the rage out. "What the _hell_ were you thinkin'? I mean good _God_ don't you have any common sense?" He was trying his best to keep to a whisper, really he was, but he could still see the fight in the parking lot, how wild and uncontrolled Cas' eyes had been when he'd reached over to help him.

"Dean, believe it or not I'm not the sole authority in Heaven. There are plenty of other garrisons as you know and they deemed it _wise_ that there be others within striking distance, ready to try and take him down if need be."

Dean laughed, incredulous. "Are you even hearing yourself right now? Cause this is all kinds of _stupid_! C'mon, Mike! If you guys had had half a chance of taking him out on your own, why'd the big boss call me in?"

Michael leaned against the wall, unfazed. "I told you. Redemption."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, but there's also the point of him being destined to _kill angels_. What she did back there, showing herself near him like that? Look, I don't know what the plan was, and I don't care if you do either. But that stunt? That was fuckin' _idiocy_!" He stepped forward, forced his rising voice back down a few notches. "I nearly had him, Michael. I was so freakin' close, but he's…" He licked his lips, looking away as he tried to find the best way to phrase it. "He's kinda wild, in a way. I mean, he'll be fine, and he'll be gettin' better, but then something'll set him off and it's like he reverts back to what he knows, what he's been taught. And after everything he's been told about needing to take out the angels, that was like pouring blood out in front of a shark or something, like…" Like it was set up to see how crazy he'd go, the same way they'd make the water run red for all those shark documentaries Sammy used to watch. They'd pour the mix out into the water, turn the cameras on and watch the sharks lose their minds. He shoved hard against Michael's chest, pushing him back up against the wall for a heartbeat before he was tossed against the opposite wall hard enough to make it shake. He kept a steady glare level with Michael's eyes, breathing heavy. "Did they plan this?"

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, settling in calmly. "Dean, I don't-"

He was too calm saying it, and Dean couldn't stand it. "_Was this a goddamn setup, Michael?"_ He could hear the dangerous calm in his own voice, feel something in his chest quivering with anger. He might not could hurt Michael, but if they'd set Cas up like this he sure as _hell_ was gonna find some son of a bitch to pay for it. He narrowed his eyes, waiting. "Yes or no question. _Answer it_."

Michael finally stepped forward at that, looking a little less indifferent. "Dean, I _don't know_." He tilted his head, conceding. "It very well could've been, you're right, but if it was it _wasn't_ by me. But I have to say, Dean, if they set him up to show he's dangerous then I'd say they-"

"They proved _nothing_! Of course he snapped, I coulda told you that was gonna happen, but before that he was getting better! We were actually _talking_." It hurt even thinking of it, now. He'd been gaining ground, making steps in the right direction and now where were they? Cas had killed an angel and then followed up by breaking his wrist when he tried to help him. That had to be about 20 steps back.

Michael sighed, rubbed his hands together before he leaned back against the sink, nodding. "Yes, I know. I was impressed with your progress, to tell the truth, but all of this _does_ bring up what I feared all along." He looked up, and Dean hated the compassion he saw in his eyes. "He may be too far gone, Dean. He may be past rehabilitation."

"He'll be fine if you can tell your people to stop fucking up whatever progress I start making!" He pointed at him as he said it, jabbing furiously at the air, the movement enough to brush his hurt arm up against the wall. He winced a little, tried to catch it before Michael could comment. Not that he hadn't expected this to come up before now, anyway.

"And I'm aware you probably don't want to talk about it, but even after he's been responding to you, he still hurt you today. He could've killed you."

Dean looked away, pulled his arm in close to his chest to shield it. "He won't."

"This is _why_ our kind was supposed to restrain our emotions, you know. They make you irrational." His voice softened, his hands reaching out to pull Dean's arm carefully away from his chest, long fingers wrapping around his wrist. There was a burst of heat and the pain dissipated, strength back in his wrist when he flexed it. "You love him too much for your own good."

He pulled away carefully, flexing his wrist again just to feel the lack of pain. "Thanks."

"Be careful, Dean. He's-"

"I can handle him. Just…tell me you're gonna keep the others outta sight. The more his demon instincts get stirred up, the harder this is gonna be. I need to keep him focused on me as much as I can."

Michael nodded, shifting away, wings rustling. "I'll do my best."

He finished up in the bathroom quick before hurrying out, anxious to meet Cas. He'd seemed to be calming down in the car, gradually, and he'd even seemed a little sorry after he'd hurt him. Even a tiny bit sorry was better than nothing at all.

Cas was already in the car waiting for him and he slid in, not bothering to favor his arm. Cas would know, anyway.

"So, what did your pet archangel tell you, hm?"

He shrugged, giving Cas a half smile as he reached over to turn the radio on, quietly. "I think he thinks I'm crazy."

Cas snorted, rubbed still bloodstained hands on his jeans before starting the car. "Well, he wouldn't be wrong."

* * *

The house, like that of most hunters, was off the beaten path. Dean had talked him into looking the location up online the day before, and the directions they'd ended up with had actually come in handy. He pulled up to the two story blue house from the back, parking on gravel close behind the back porch. They got out without speaking, Dean following behind him as he headed up to the old screen door.

If he was totally honest with himself he was still far more distracted by the events of that afternoon than he should've been, and that was probably why he didn't notice until it was almost too late. The wind changed on the porch, picking up and blowing past them at an angle, and by then he could both sense it and smell it on the wind. Before he could think he'd pulled Dean against him, one hand wrapped firm over his mouth to keep him quiet. He turned his head, his lips brushing against Dean's ear as he whispered. "He's here." He didn't have time to explain it more clearly than that. He still had a handful of the powers that came from the angel blood in him, and though it expended more energy than he'd liked to have used he took advantage of those powers now, zapping Dean to the safety of the motel room they'd stopped to get on the way in.

Dean was gone, and he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. None of it had even been considered, nothing past the overwhelming urge to keep Dean from being anywhere near Macchion. It was practical, in the sense that he wasn't supposed to have Dean with him. Still, he wasn't enough of an idiot to think that was why he'd done it. He scowled, wrenched the door open hard enough to yank it off it's hinges, flying back from his hand and crashing loudly onto the gravel. His boots echoed on the hardwood, and after a little poking around he came to a room in the opposite corner mostly filled with floor to ceiling bookcases.

Macchion was there, unsurprisingly, sitting on a shorter bookcase and leaning up against the one behind him, one leg dangling off the side. He grinned, his eyes gleaming coal black. "Surprised to see me?"

"Astounded." He kept his voice even, uninterested, and he skimmed his hand across the nearest row of books as he stepped inside. "Thought you were busy. Found it already?"

He hopped down lightly, slinking across the floor toward him. He was too graceful about it, too fluid, and Castiel could feel his mouth turning dry. It was insane, really. The last time he'd seen him, everything had been as it should be. This was his teacher, his friend, the only thing close to a lover he'd ever had. Or, so he'd thought. He'd trusted him implicitly...right up until the moment he'd seen Dean.

Macchion closed the distance between them, his hands sliding up the front of his chest, over his shirt. "No, I just got here, was waiting for you. And I'd finished that area. Thought it wouldn't hurt to check in with you before I started the next, and besides..." He leaned in, biting sharply at his jaw. He swallowed, hands coming up automatically to grasp at his arms. "I was _bored_."

He grunted non-commitally, released his grip when Macchion brought his hands over to his arms, running down until his fingers brushed over dried blood. "Well, well, well, haven't YOU been busy?"

He licked his lips, cocked his head at the sudden surge of emotion. Half pride, half something else. "An angel."

Macchion's eyes lit with vicious excitement, shining black all over again. "I _knew_ you could do it, Castiel. Didn't I always tell you how strong you are?" He ran a hand down his chest again, nails scratching lightly even through the fabric. "You can have them _all_, and when you raise our Master, he will have so much in store for you." He leaned up, fingers tightening in his hair to pull his head aside as he bit down on his neck, hard. "Celebration is in order, wouldn't you say?"

The answer should've been an unquestionable 'yes'. A few days ago, it would've been. As it was, he was uninterested and uneasy and more than a little angry at himself for the confusion. Macchion was older and smarter than him, after all, and if he'd just _listened_ to him about Dean being dangerous, none of this would've happened. He felt the pressure on his shoulders and dropped to his knees without a word, the response automatic after so many years in hell under his service. Before they'd been anything close to equals, this had been even more familiar than it was now.

"_Yes_. Perfect." Macchion drug his fingers through his hair, rough and gripping, and with his other hand reached to undo his own fly, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to give him access. He was half hard, and he didn't keep him waiting long. He remembered that he'd learned that much in the Pit, though when this had started he never could remember. He craned his neck forward, taking him in far enough to suck hard at the tip. It didn't take much effort to get him fully hard, and it was then Macchion gripped the back of his head in earnest, and he let his throat relax.

Doing it now, he couldn't help but compare it to the way Dean had done it so differently. Less brute force, more sucking, more tongue. Eye contact, and the feel of his Dean's touch against his skin before he'd smacked his hand away...

His hand flexed at the thought, and though he almost brought it up to lay against Macchion's thigh he stopped himself just before he did. He wasn't sure why, though it seemed to be something between the certainty he wouldn't appreciate the gesture and the fact that he wasn't sure he wanted to give that to him. His head was a jumbled mess and when he brought his hand down to the front of his own jeans, he wasn't all that surprised to find his cock wasn't taking too much of an interest.

The hand on the back of his head tightened, and he remembered the way Dean had moaned around him when he'd done the same. He felt himself twitch against his palm then, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. _Not here, not here. Fucking hell, not here._ If he was getting ready to remember anything, Macchion certainly couldn't see him doing it. Falling out on the floor in the middle of _this_...well, that'd be more than noticeable. He needed to finish this, quickly.

So, he stopped struggling with WHY he shouldn't be so hung up on it and just went with, shoving a hand down his pants and letting his eyes shut as he thought about the way Dean had sucked him off, the way his lips had stretched around him, his bright green eyes shining. Yeah, THAT he could definitely take an interest in. He moaned, hoped the vibration was enough to help speed things up. He jacked himself quicker, his mind scanning over all the images he had from that night. It was when he remembered Dean nuzzling against him that he came, spilling over his own hand, moaning around his mouthful, his breath blasting down hot onto damp skin. That was all it took for him, too, and Macchion was finished, holding his head still, pressed against the back of his throat.

When he let him go he pulled back as quickly as he could, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. His head was aching sharper now, and he squeezed his eyes shut a moment, rubbing his hand against his temple. He stood slowly, a little startled when Macchion pulled him in for a kiss that was more teeth than tongue. "Much. Better. Wouldn't you say?"

He swallowed, hated the taste and wished for alcohol. "Absolutely." He clapped a hand on Macchion's shoulder, pushing bast him and into the rows of books. "I'll start in the back corner." He was incredibly grateful not to be followed, and when he got to the back he crouched down against one of the shelves, leaning into the wood. The pain spiked sharply, and he didn't have long to wait.

_He shivered, bare skin against the cold metal of the rack, his entire body shaking with it. He registered somewhere, dimly, that hell was never supposed to be this cold and his spirits lifted a little at the thought. It was something Dean would've said. The moment of respite had to have shown on his face, and he felt the slap against his cheek, hard enough to turn his head, his eyes snapping open. _

_**Macchion.**__ He was grinning at him, one hand reaching out to stroke against his cheek. "Now, now, Castiel, what on __**earth**__ were you thinking, hm? Not of __**Dean**__?" He licked lips he would've sworn were turning blue, turned his head to look away. Elsewhere, he could see the fire burning. The screams rose up in a constant chorus, and he was almost sure he could pick out Francis, the woman he'd been neck to in one of the rooms for a few weeks. Macchion pressed closer, and though he could feel the heat of his body it did __**nothing **__to warm him. Not that he'd have wanted it to anyway, not coming from __**him**__. "Don't you know by now he can't save you, hm? Aren't you tired of __**screaming **__for him, day after day?" _

_He felt sharp sting of steel at the inside of his elbow, drawing blood that came out at a steady drip, sizzling when it hit burning marble below. Apparently, it was only him that was cold. He swallowed, realized his throat wasn't really all that dry. He remembered screaming himself hoarse, but that had been that morning. He'd been healed since then. "He'll come for me. I know he will." No matter what he'd wanted on the surface, no matter how much he'd needed to think of Dean as separate from all this forever, he needed to believe that now. He __**had**__ to believe it, or he'd go mad. Even though he hadn't told him, Dean would figure it out eventually, he was sure of it. Even if it took centuries, even being in Heaven...he'd figure it out, and when he did, he'd find a way to save him. Dean had never failed him once, and he couldn't doubt him now. He just had to be strong, hold out until then. Strong like Dean had been, for 30 long years. If Dean had known he was coming, he was sure he'd have been able to hold out just a little longer. _

_Macchion gripped his chin, hard and unrelenting. "__**No one**__ is coming for you, you fool. He's done with you. He's forgotten all about you." Macchion grinned, leaned into him and crossed his arms against Castiel's chest, watching him with mock affection. "Do you know what he's doing, hm? He's upstairs, living in a house with his family and fucking his __**dream**__ woman." _

_Every hour, he had to remind himself demons did nothing but lie. Even so, he couldn't help the way his breath hitched at the thought, the image springing to his mind of Dean in Anna's arms in the back of the Impala. That had been bad enough, but to imagine Dean having what was in his eyes the __**perfect**__ woman..._

_Macchion cocked his head, mock curious. "Oh, come __**on**__ now...did you really think he wanted __**you**__? __**You**__, Castiel, one of God's pets, an overgrown bird with a submissive complex? Please. You were just a warm body to fuck to pass the time."_

_**Not true, you know it's not true. It's not true, not Dean.**__ He took a deep breath, shaky as his teeth chattered. He was so desperately cold. _

_"Why else did he never say he loved you, hm? He told Sam, you know. When they were younger. But yet, he never told __**you**__. And why would he, because I'm __**right**__. He __**never **__loved you. Not once." _

_**Dean. Dean, Dean, please… **__He'd stopped praying, long ago. Down here, that was just impossible to keep up. The way he addressed Dean in his head, though...that was close enough to prayer. The temperature seemed to drop another few degrees and he shook harder, teeth chattering so hard he could've bit off his tongue if he'd moved it. He felt a tear leak from the corner of his eye, sliding down against his cheek. _

_Macchion followed the trail with a blade, slicing the skin open. "__**No**__ crying, remember? Demons don't cry, Castiel. Waste of...well, something." _

_He took a few short breaths, gathered the energy to force his jaw into some kind of cooperation to let him speak. "I'm...I'm n-not a-"_

_"Oh, but you will be. You get closer every day." He punctuated the last three words with sharp pokes of the knife point down his chest, between his ribs. "But you know...I'm not entirely ungenerous. I mean, it would be unfair to say I'm not interested in giving you what you want." _

_It could mean nothing good, and this time when he shook a little harder it was with fear. With a snap the chains on his wrists disappeared, long enough for Macchion to turn him around, shove him against the metal face first. It was literally so cold it was almost burning and he cried out as he was pressed hard into it, the long metal slat down the middle branding intolerable cold from his head down through his groin. The pain this way was ten times worse than it had been on his back and he tried to squirm away, whimpering._

_Macchion pressed against him, whispering against his ear. "You miss being fucked, don't you? Lucky for you, I can take care of that for you." His heart shot into his throat, and he struggled in panic, ripping skin off his arm where blood had already frozen it to the metal. All the resistance in the world would get him nowhere. The restraint was too tight, and down here, there was nowhere to run. He pressed his cheek against the metal, tried to focus on the pain of the gash against the cold, __**anything**__ else but the way Macchion was pushing into him. _

_**Dean. Dean, please…**_

He jolted back to the present, gasping quietly, his hand tightening on the shelf. The muscles in his shoulders had gone rigid, like even now he was still trying to pull away. He glanced around furtively, his heart hammering a little less violently when he realized he couldn't see Macchion anywhere. At least he hadn't seen. His head was still pounding, but he was almost used to that by now. The things he'd just experienced...that was far more important than a headache.

He'd remembered his time on the rack, of course, but always in such a dull way, and he never remembered the early years at all. He'd never remembered that. It had been easy to tell Dean before that whoever worked him over was only doing their job, and that was still true, but seeing it again, _reliving_ it...

There was no way to tell how many years he'd been in, then, but it probably wasn't too long. Even so, he'd still been waiting for Dean. He'd felt it all over again in the vision, the pain and the grasping hope and the overwhelming love for a human he hadn't even been able to picture quite as clearly as he once had. It was staggering.

"Any luck?" The voice came from the other side of the room but all the same he stood up straight, cleared his throat.

"No. Nothing yet."

"_Damn_ I don't want to search every book in here."

"Mm." He fell silent, forced himself to focus. At the moment, nothing else could matter but finding that damn gospel. His eyes scanned the shelves, skimming over the bindings and lingering on anything that had a W. There were far too many books in here, too many old ones without proper titles either. He had to pull those out, scanning the cover or even the first few pages before he was sure what they were. After awhile, he realized he was going about it the wrong way. Anything that looked _too_ old couldn't possibly be it, not when it had only been around a couple hundred years when there was plenty adequate printing and labeling practices.

He didn't like to admit even to himself just how badly he wanted to find it for all the wrong reasons. It would potentially give him the location of their Master, yes, and that would save a lot of time. But it was the _Winchester_ gospel, and there was such much in there that he now desperately wanted to know.

"I've got it!" He resisted the urge to curse at the exclamation, his fist pounding once against the nearest bookshelf anyway. He hurried over to find him, anxious to take it out of his hands.

Like he'd feared, Macchion was holding onto it worryingly tight, smiling. "Here, why don't I take it back with me? As I said, I was done with that certain section of the map, and I can look through it for you. See if there's anything useful so you don't have to waste your time."

He considered quick, tried not to sound as eager as he really was. "It's not a problem, really, I can-"

"I'll call you if there's anything interesting."

Apparently, it wasn't going to be up for discussion. In his head, the scales tipped even further toward Dean. Clearly, Macchion had something to hide.

* * *

He expected the barrage of questions when he appeared in the room, but that didn't mean he was in the mood.

"Hey, what the hell was that about, huh? You couldn't've given me more warning than 'he's here', and zapping me off here without anything else to go on? And did you find it?"

"_Dean_..." He let out a sharp sigh, held his hands up in warning. "_Stop_."

Dean nodded, caving. "Yeah. Yeah, ok." He brushed past him, expecting him to at least keep his mouth shut for five seconds. "Just...did he hurt you? You're...you're not in trouble because of me, right?"

There was genuine worry there and it snagged at something in him, pulling him to a stop. He leaned up against the door frame on his way to the bathroom, running his hands over his face. When he swallowed, he could still taste Macchion. "Water?"

Without a word Dean went to the sink, filling up a plastic cup and bringing it to him, his eyes showing his fear. "Cas? What'd he do? Are you-"

"Can you give it a rest?" It was halfhearted, less angry and more mildly annoyed. He brought the cup to his lips and tilted it, the first taste of clean water good enough that he tipped his head back, downing it all quick. It wasn't enough, and it didn't burn away the taste like alcohol, but it helped. He looked up, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror.

_He wiped his blade on his pants, smiling slightly at the line the blood made. There were four more, two on the other leg. Today had been a productive day, and he was about to be starting all over again. _

_He felt a hand on the back of his neck then, rubbed hard at the muscle. "__**That's**__ why you're the one I'm proud of. Good work today."_

_He nodded, lay the curved blade back down on the pile. "Thank you, Macchion." _

_His other hand came up to his shoulder and he tugged Castiel back, lips descending on his in a harsh kiss. He jerked away, hard and instinctive. Even if he'd given up any shred of goodness or even slight humanity he'd had in him, his devotion to Dean wasn't something he could just lose. _

_He heard the angry snarl behind him, tensed just before the demon grabbed his arm and whirled him around, eyes pitch black. "Do you still think Dean would want you now, hm? A __**demon**__? He'd kill you, you moron." _

_He swallowed, looked away as his breath came rapid. "I'm not-"_

"_Have you even __**looked**__ in a mirror lately?" Far too familiar hands gripped his shoulders, shoved him forward to a jaggedly cut mirror that had appeared to suit Macchion's purposes. He shoved him right up to it, gripping his jaw hard enough to crack as he made him look. He was bloody all over, his trench coat gone, tie crooked, swipes of blood on his khaki pants. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he looked like he'd seen a hundred years of war and starvation. Honestly, he'd seen worse than that. Overall, it wasn't as horrendous as he was expecting. _

"_Dean would-"_

_Macchion laughed, loud and raucous and far too pleased. "Oh, my mistake, that was the wrong mirror. Look __**again**__." _

_He looked back to the reflection, startling and trying to leap back almost immediately. Macchion held him fast and he stared, horrified and transfixed. Macchion's true form was there, holding him in place. He could see the wicked black horns curving from his skull, yellow red eyes dancing over a mouth wide enough to take up most of his face. What he couldn't look away from, though, was himself. _

_Jagged bone jutted out from just behind his shoulders, ragged remnants of his wings. His own eyes were a gleaming orange, swirling, horrifically mesmerizing. His skin that had been so gleaming white as an angel was grey, something not quite corpselike and a little more otherworldly, and when he gasped he could see sharp pointed teeth. _

_He snapped his eyes shut, heard Macchion keep laughing madly as he let him go to fall to his knees. He was retching, coming up with nothing as his fingers dug into the marble. It was done. It was really done. He'd thought he had time left, thought his fate wasn't sealed yet but now…now it was finished. He'd gone too far, and there was no hope of ever going back, no hope Dean would want to even look at him now after what he'd become. _

_He stayed on his hands and knees even as the marble started to burn his skin, kept listening to Macchion's insane laughter. It was over, really and truly over. Now, he could let everything go. _

"Cas, it's ok, it's ok, I've got you! I've got you…"

He came out of it screaming, cutting himself off with a strangled sound when he realized it. He was shaking, his head spinning enough that he felt closer to throwing up than he'd ever imagined. He could still feel the heat of the marble burning into him, feel every last bit of the shock and the rage and the pain. The overwhelming grief of seeing himself in that mirror, the earth shattering realization that he'd lost any hope of Dean _forever_…he'd never imagined any emotion could be that strong.

He reached out blindly, his hands closing around Dean's shoulders and steadying himself that way, just barely staying on his knees rather than falling to the floor. Dean's hand pressed against his forehead, cool and gentle, and he leaned into it without thinking.

"Jesus, you're burning up…what the hell'd he make you remember, huh?"

_Dean. DeanDeanDean, please…_ Inside, he was scrabbling, everything still jumbled.

_Have you even __**looked**__ in a mirror lately?_

He shuddered, felt Dean shuffle them around and pull him closer, his back against Dean's chest, Dean's hand still over his forehead. "It's ok, Cas. It's ok, just breathe, alright? Just breathe. I got you."

He licked his lips, chest heaving.

_Do you still think Dean would want you now, hm? A __**demon**__? He'd kill you, you moron._

"He said…" He trailed off, uncertain about saying it out loud.

Dean rubbed his shoulder, squeezing gently and only a little hesitant. "What'd he tell you, Cas? Tell me, and I'll tell you the _truth_."

He could still see the mirror when he shut his eyes, the first glimpse of what he'd become and all the horror for what he'd lost. "He showed me, in the mirror…my face, my body, my wings and you, you'd kill me if you knew, if you saw what-"

Dean shook him, gentle but enough to rattle him a little bit. "Stop it, dammit, just stop it. If I didn't want to save you, I wouldn't've come back. I mean, not braggin' or anything but things were _good_, and I coulda stayed there. But I wasn't…it wasn't right, not without you."

He shook his head, enough weak anger rising in him that he pushed Dean's hand away from his forehead. "I'm a demon, Dean. I'm not…that's not a reversible state. It's a transformation."

"Well, ok. So you're a demon. I can handle that." He shrugged, jostled around until he was halfway facing him. "Look, I had a hard time sayin' this before and I'm not suggesting I'm gonna be saying it a lot from now on cause I'm pretty sure I won't, but you didn't really hear the first time, so…" Dean looked away, took a few uneasy breaths before he could manage. "I love you, ok? I do, and that's not changing, no matter what happened to you down there. Whatever he might've told you, we're still ok. I promise."

_Impossible_. And yet, he could feel something in him clawing desperately to believe it. "What do you want from me? I can't go back, not now, I-"

"And I just said, I hear you, I do. All I want is for you to say you'll stay with me over them. That's all I'm askin', here. Just say you'll come with me, and Mike's promised me he'll get us both out of here. We can work everything else out after that."

Staying with Dean…at this point, he could admit there wasn't anything else he wanted more. Even the things he'd been conditioned to want. All the same, that didn't mean he didn't still _want_ them. Just that he didn't want them as _much_. He let his head lean back against Dean's shoulder, the strength leeching out of him. He still felt like he was almost burning. "I can't be who you want me to be, who you remember. Killing that angel, I _enjoyed_ it. And I'm not sorry, even though I know I should be. In hell, the souls I-"

Dean's fingers brushed over his mouth, cautious. "Shh. Stop it. I don't wanna hear it. Not now, at least. I get it, you know. I mean, I missed it too. And Sammy, he missed the power after he stopped drinking the demon blood. But we both knew stopping was the right thing to do, and we managed alright. You can get through it, Cas. I'll help you, if you'll let me. And if you leave with me, you won't be tempted. Not where we're going."

It all sounded too good to be true. He laughed, rubbed at the edge of the gash near his hairline he hadn't bothered to heal. "They won't let me in."

"Oh yes they will. I have their word."

He could almost see it, him and Dean no other responsibilities. He wondered how long his hands would itch for a blade. "It'll be slow. I'll still _want_ it. I-"

"Cas, you have any idea how much you've changed just since I came down here? Besides that, I could see _you_ in you from the minute I saw you. Slow going we can deal with, but I know you'll make it all the way back one day. Not the same, just…back. I know you will." He didn't move, still thinking. He could feel Dean's heartbeat against his back. "Cas, say you'll come with me. Please."

He turned a little to let his still burning forehead rest against Dean's neck, felt the way Dean moved with him to keep bearing most of his weight. The terror of the vision had hardly even begun to dull much less disappear, and he knew his decision was already made.

"Yes. I'll come with you."

* * *

So I know there was much evil-ness to Cas in this one, but I hope that last scene made up for it. :D (and no, don't worry, this isn't the end. There's some more. Maybe….2-3 chapters more. ^^)


	11. Chapter 11

Yes, I know. Waaaaaay too long. *headdesk*

* * *

For a minute, Dean could hardly dare to believe it. It was everything he'd been working for, and when he'd asked, he'd been sure that Cas would pull away from him, whatever had come over him since he'd seen the vision dissipating. Instead, Cas had pressed closer, and he could feel his heart pounding uncertainly in his chest. After what he'd seen he was still terrified, and Dean battled a fresh surge of anger. If he ever got his hands on that black-eyed son of a bitch, he'd tear him apart.

For now, though, this news was way too good to be dwelling on that. He tightened his hold just a little, couldn't resist turning his head to kiss his temple, near the nasty cut he'd noticed the day before. He wanted everything at once, but dealing with Cas was still like dealing with a flighty wolf. No matter what he'd just agreed to, if Dean said or did the wrong thing, he was pretty sure he'd still lash out.

Still, he could try pushing the boundaries a little bit. He rubbed his thumb against Cas's arm gently, smiling as he whispered with his lips still against his skin. "Alright, then. I'll talk to Michael; get us the hell outta here."

"I'm not sure you know what you're getting into, Dean." The bite to it was weak, and Cas didn't lift his head from Dean's shoulder. "There's so much I still don't remember, so much I-"

"We have to go over this again? Told you, I don't care. We'll work it out." He licked his lips, the memory of what had happened last time he'd tried to kiss Cas making him hesitate. Still, things were going worlds better now than they had been then, and he was pretty sure he could risk it. He tipped his head down, lips brushing tentatively.

This time, Cas responded. He didn't exactly understand the concept of a slow kiss, though, not that Dean really cared at the moment. Cas's hand came up lightning fast, fingers tangling rough in the short hair behind his head. He tugged hard to keep Dean close, teeth nipping at his lip as he thrust his tongue inside, harsh and claiming. Dean moaned, encouraging, and he slid his left hand down to rest near Cas's hip, grinding against him from behind as they kissed.

When they broke for air he heard his name on Cas's lips and tightened his grip hard enough to bruise, the sound shocking his heart to beat just a little faster. Demon or not, this was _Cas_ -- his Cas -- and he was high off the fact that he'd somehow pulled this off. It wouldn't be perfect from here, but it'd _work_, and he wouldn't have to have any more nightmares of watching Michael pull the trigger on the Colt, helpless as Cas's body dropped to the ground.

When Cas kissed him again, he shoved it all out of his mind. He still tasted different, and he was still rough around the edges, but it was so fucking _good_. Dean's hands wandered absently, letting Cas control the kiss and hold him there with one strong arm while his own hands trailed down Cas's chest, edging up under his shirt and stroking down to press over his hipbones.

For awhile it was enough, but the friction of Cas's body pressed back against his groin was too affecting combined with everything else already buzzing under his skin. He knew he'd be able to come like this soon, _hard_ if he could pull Cas back against him just a little closer and rub off just right against him. He groaned with how much he wanted to do just that, biting down on Cas's lip and letting him feel the vibration of the sound.

He slipped his right hand just a little lower, pressing against the bulge in the front of Cas's jeans. He hadn't really been allowed to touch him, not even when he'd gotten him off before, and he was overwhelmed with the urge now, almost panting with the need to _touch_ and feel Cas come apart under his hands. He squeezed gently, rubbing with his palm. "Cas? Can I..?"

Cas turned enough to nip sharply at the corner of his mouth, and Dean felt the sting of a little blood rising to the surface. "Are you always such an insufferable tease?"

His voice rumbled low and gravelly with want, and Dean could hear more of _Cas_ it in than he had so far in this body. He chuckled softly, something in his chest stirring hot with a mix of happiness and lust. "Slow's good sometimes. I'll show you." Cas growled, his hand closing around Dean's wrist, and though he was forceful as he pressed his hand to the button on his jeans, he was still obviously holding back his full strength. It was probably fucked how much it warmed him that Cas was being careful not to hurt him, but he didn't care. It meant something, and Dean kissed him harder in response, sucking Cas's tongue into his mouth and moaning hungrily.

Eventually, he'd teach him to slow down. Dean loved a good, hard fuck as much as any guy, but his style was usually slower, drawn out and intense and maddening, and with Cas that had always been so good, something he absolutely wanted back. But, that could wait for Heaven. There, he'd have all the time in the world to bring him around. For now, he'd give him exactly what he wanted.

He popped open the button and slid down the zipper without looking, finally reluctantly breaking away from the kiss to turn his eyes to his hand as he pulled Cas free. His boxers were sticky already, and though most of it was more cooled than recent, he tried to shove it out of his mind. After the way Cas had been acting when he came back, he'd been pretty sure something had happened. All the same, that didn't mean he liked confirmation of it.

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he wrapped his hand around Cas, who practically attacked his neck with his mouth, sucking bruises into his skin. He wasn't gentle about it, and over his own pulse pounding in his ears, he could hear the low, rough sounds leaving Cas's lips. Cas twisted a little in his arms, the movement putting better friction on his cock. He bit down harder, rocked into it, and moaned low in his throat.

"Dean…" _God,_ it was pure Cas, rocky and almost just right. He shuddered in his grip, hips jerking up. "Harder…"

Yeah, he could do that. He tightened his grip a little, jacked him just a little rougher. His hips were still making their own hard, shallow thrusts against Cas from behind, and when Cas twisted and arched hard against him, he came, his heart stuttering and lips stilling against Cas's skin. He made sure to keep his hand going though, and Cas came just after him with a soft cry, body going rigid just before going limp, melting back against his chest in a way he hadn't really expected.

He let go and wiped his hand on Cas's jeans before wrapping his arm around his chest, holding him close and feeling stupidly emotional over the fact that Cas wasn't fighting his embrace. Cas let him drag him down to lay on the floor, and though he didn't hold on when Dean pulled him close, he didn't protest either.

Yeah, he could work from this. _They_ could work from this. They were gonna be ok.

* * *

The minute he fell asleep, Michael was there. In the dream, Cas was still there on the floor, asleep and disheveled and looking more innocent than he really had any right to. It probably meant something, too, that it was the old Cas he saw, but he didn't dwell on that. Instead he turned to Michael, grinning.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry. I can't really congratulate you right now, Dean." The look in his eyes was nothing short of grim, and he kept distance between them, leaned up against the wall just beside the air conditioner.

Dean threw his arms out wide, gesturing. "Are you kidding?! You can't '_congratulate_' me right now? I did what your boss wanted me to do!" He pointed back at his angel asleep on the floor, his gaze pinning Michael down incredulously. "I saved him! He's gonna be okay. We just gotta iron out the kinks, and that could take forever, but we'll do it later. For now, all things considered, he's pretty much fucking fine!"

"Yes, fine, well done. But Dean, we have larger problems here." His voice tight, he brought a hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose and began to pace. "I _am_ sorry. I would've been very impressed if not for the fact that before he came back here tonight, Castiel left Macchion with a copy of the Winchester gospel."

Yeah, okay, _that_ was a bit of a shock. He stepped back, subdued. "Well, I mean…he didn't _give_ it to him, right? I know Cas wanted to see it, and besides it's not like-"

"It doesn't _matter_ if he gave it to him, Dean! You led him right to it, and whatever you may have thought, it _does_ contain the whereabouts of Lucifer!"

It was like a punch to the gut, but he didn't have the time to dwell on the sick feeling that came with it. Instead, he just let himself get angrier.

"The _fuck_, Michael? You couldn't have – oh, I don't know -- _told_ me this before we went running off to find the damn thing? And besides that, Jesus Christ, what was Chuck thinking?"

"He was a prophet, Dean. He wasn't _thinking_ anything. He wrote down what he was instructed, nothing more, nothing less. Every bit of information he received is in that gospel, and that includes what we sealed in Jacob's Cave."

Spinning around, Dean knocked the TV off the stand, watched it spark and clatter broken onto the carpet. It shattered easily, pieces flying, reminding him once again this was all just a dream. On the floor by the bathroom Cas was still asleep, and for a moment, he wanted to go to him, to wake him up and let himself see familiar blue eyes again. It was stupid, superficial. Cas was Cas; the body was irrelevant. He rubbed a hand over his face, shoulders hunched as he faced away from Michael.

"Well, that sucks," he finally said. "You gonna find him?"

"No. You two are."

Even having half expected that answer, it still pissed him off.

Dean gritted his teeth, faced him with a glare. "What about your promise, huh? You said when I-"

"I said when the threat to the world is negated, if you recall. At the moment, the world is _very_ much threatened."

"And how so?" He gestured back at Cas, shifting Michael's attention. "I've got their key. Door won't open without angel blood; it's as simple as that."

"And when he figures that out, don't you think Macchion will get himself some? He might not be able to kill an angel, but he could hurt one. It'd be difficult, certainly, but if he knows that's his _only_ obstacle to freeing Lucifer? He could improvise." Michael rubbed his hands together, hesitant. "You have…surprised me. He isn't fixed, but-"

"He isn't broken, jackass." Yeah, he absolutely was. But that didn't mean Dean was gonna let Michael talk about him like that. _He_ was broken too, and so was Sam, _and_ their parents. But they were fucking family, and no one outside of it had any right knowing stuff that wasn't theirs to poke at.

"However you see it. The point is, Dean, the job isn't finished. I'll hold up my end. You have my word. Finish Macchion and end this, and I'll get you both back where you belong."

Something about the wording grated at his nerves, and he edged closer, voice dangerously low. "He _belongs_ with me."

"Don't be so touchy. I wasn't insinuating otherwise, I assure you."

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, shoulders sagging as he glanced over at Cas. He looked peaceful, like this. "So. Missouri."

"Yes. Missouri."

* * *

Castiel woke up to the sound of the shower. He was still curled up awkwardly on the hard, dirty carpet, and his head was residually twinging from the night before. But he could still almost feel Dean's arms around him, and the thought was grounding. Whatever else he knew or didn't know, he knew for certain that going with Dean was the right choice.

Or, at least it was the choice he wanted. He was equally sure a drug addict would take heroin over quitting cold turkey if they were offered it, but that didn't mean the heroin was good for them; just that they wanted it. Of course, Dean would have said that going back to Macchion would be more like going back to drugs, but he wasn't sure which option fit the metaphor better. More importantly, he didn't give a shit.

He groaned as he rolled his shoulders, joints cracking. Clearly, human bodies weren't meant to sleep on unyielding concrete covered by a layer of rock hard carpet. As soon as he'd changed clothes and started considering breakfast, the bathroom door opened. Dean stood in the doorway, steam curling out around him, a towel around his waist and plenty of warm, damp skin bare.

Cas didn't think. Reacting on instinct alone, he darted to him with the sharpness of a snake's strike, pushing him back against the door and kissing him hard. If he was going to accept this, to take it, he might as well give in and really _take_ it. In the world he'd come from, if you didn't grab what you wanted someone else would, and now that he'd been willing to admit he wanted Dean, this was only logical, really. He pulled back to let Dean breathe, slid his right hand up to press it to the hand print on Dean's shoulder.

"I gave you this?"

Dean nodded, a little breathless. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."

He tried to fit his hand against it, growling in frustration when it didn't fit. His hand was larger, the fingers longer, and he felt only a barely discernable power, the tiniest low hum.

"It doesn't work."

Dean laughed softly at his frustration, stepping close and kissing his jaw carefully. "'s ok. It used to. I'm sure it will again once we get back, ok? Don't worry about it." His good natured grin faded then, lips twisting almost into a grimace as he pulled back. "Speaking of which, we've got a problem."

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it. It shouldn't even have hurt, really. Nothing should have been hurting at _all_. If he'd been smart, if he'd been _right_ and kept his distance and not let this goddamn human get under his skin…

He jerked away, halfway across the room and rigidly tense before Dean could even notice he'd moved.

Dean's eyes widened, the hand that wasn't holding the towel coming up to spread out, palm wide. "Whoa, Cas, _no_, okay? No, that's not…the problem's not you. I told you, we've both got a ticket. It's fine." He took a breath, looking away. "Problem's your buddy. Book's got the location of the Devil, and before they'll take either of us home, we gotta take him out."

It seemed Dean thought if he said it quick, it'd be easier for Castiel to just say yes, to accept the news like it was nothing. But this was way too far from 'nothing' for that to work. He'd been there, _feet_ away from holding the answer, and now Macchion had it. The low voice that hummed with pleasure somewhere in the back of his head told him it didn't matter, that at least one of them had it, and now they could-

"_No._" He growled, shoulders hunching rigidly, the remnants of his wings seconds from bursting from his shoulders. If he was going with Dean, if he was going to get to _keep_ Dean, then he had to play at least a little by the rules. Not strictly yet, just enough to get by, enough that the deal Dean had struck would hold. Enough that he wouldn't release their Master to bring Hell on Earth, just like he'd been taught.

"Hey, Cas-" Dean's hand brushed against the center of his back and he jerked away, eyes flaring bright.

"_Don't_, Dean."

There it was again, the same hurt in his eyes Dean tried to hide every time he pulled away. This time, though, it was just a little more pronounced, and guilt stabbed sharp and lingering in his chest. He licked his lips, took a breath and reined some of the anger in. "I'll hurt you."

Dean shrugged, stepped forward anyway and pressed a hand to his chest. "S'ok, I can deal with that. I know you're tryin', and-"

"_No_!" The violence behind the word surprised even him, and this time when he jerked back, his wing bones did snap free of his shoulders. More than usual, they felt _light_ and wrong, as if he could almost really remember the comforting weight of his wings -- the wings he'd had snapped off at the joint in the early days, a pain so excruciating he remembered every second of it. He couldn't remember the face of the one who had done it, but now…now, he could hazard a guess.

Dean wasn't trying to approach him again, but he looked even more like a beaten dog than he had before, and Castiel had never felt more like a monster. "You see what you've done to me? I can hurt you, and it's likely that I will, regardless of where we are, even more likely if we happen to so much as _disagree._ And I shouldn't even _care_ if I hurt you. I shouldn't give a _fuck,_ but you've been…the things I've _seen_ that I can't control, that I've felt…it's all driving me mad, and-" And the discrepancy was going to kill him. He was a demon, and demons were violent. He was bound to Dean, and he had feelings for him he shouldn't have had, and there was instinct there, the _need_ not just to not hurt him but to keep him safe from anyone else that would.

Those two instincts weren't going to stop clashing any time soon, and, if the way he was feeling at the moment was any indication, he'd lose whatever was left of his mind long before he made any substantial progress.

Dean moved while he was still deep in thought, one arm across Cas's chest, the other catching his right wrist and driving him back against the wall, pinning him. Reflex had his left arm up, power stirring in his chest in preparation to fling him back across the room, but he caught himself, and Dean smirked, pressed him just a little harder into the wall.

"See? You gonna hurt me, Cas? I mean, you're pissed, outta control, right? So how is it I'm not a dent in that wall over there, huh?"

Castiel groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair, gripping and knocking his own head none too gently against the wall, appreciating the clarity that came with the pain. "You ask too much, Dean. I can't _do_ this, I can't be careful with you and forget what I know and try to remember everything I _knew _all at once, it's too much, I-"

"I'm not askin' you to do it all at once, and besides, I don't think your instincts are quite as fucked as you think they are. Hell, the other day when you were fighting that angel, you kept me pinned up against that tree even when you probably could've used that power, and unless there's something I don't know about, keeping me there had no tactical advantage, nothing other than keeping me out of the line of fire. Am I right?" Dean's thumb brushed against the inside of his wrist, gentle and soothing, and he twitched under the touch, uneasy.

"Don't…I…" Yes, maybe he was careful with Dean on reflex. That had been part of why he'd been so intrigued with him, after all. There'd been something about him even before he really understood what it was, and _yes_, alright, Dean had a point. But none of that had exactly stopped him from torturing him or raping him or breaking his wrist, and none of those were things he wanted to repeat. The night before, he'd _felt_ what it was like to believe he'd lost Dean forever, and even though he couldn't remember now everything Dean had meant to him then or could potentially mean to him in the future, he knew enough to know he wasn't willing to lose it. More than that, he didn't want to be the one to _cause_ him to lose it. He couldn't let himself kill Dean, even by accident. He didn't want to even hurt him, and _fuck_ this was all too much of a goddamn mess. "You can't…push me, Dean, I-"

"I'm not pushin'. I'm just not letting you back up on me anymore. I could touch you five minutes ago without you freakin' the hell out, and I'm not gonna let you tell me I can't just because you wanna kill something right now." _Brave or stupid_. Crossing his mind again now, it was almost amusing. Brave or stupid or…

Just _or_.

He shoved Dean back, hard enough to move him but not hard enough to throw him, and he paced the length of the room, bone still jutting sharp from each shoulder. "What are you asking? I meet him, pretend I'm going to help him, and then take him down before he opens the door?" Yes, that sounded like a _wonderful_ plan.

"Something like that, yeah. I was thinking more along the lines of _we_ go down there, but-"

"You're out of your _fucking_ mind." He froze in his pacing, rigid, eyes narrowing as he stared Dean down. "I'm not even supposed to _have_ you, you understand. If I show up _with_ you, he'll kill you before I have a second to respond."

Dean shrugged, hitched the towel up around his waist and sat down on the bed, eyes far too calm. "So what, Cas? I mean, at this point, my options aren't exactly scary except for one: us not getting out of here. Only way we reach that is not dealing with this guy. All we need is him dead, so as long as that happens, I can die while we're in the process and the worst that happens to me is I get zapped on up early. So it doesn't really-"

"It _matters_." He hissed the words between his teeth, harsh and venomous, and he could almost hear Macchion laughing at him. He was a demon, for fuck's sake. It shouldn't matter. The logic was sound, and it shouldn't matter, but it did. It absolutely did. This was _Dean._ It was like a compulsion, a hungry, all consuming physical need. "I won't watch him kill you. You're not going."

Even annoyed, Dean liked something in that, it seemed. His eyes softened, and he didn't fight, instead leaning back on the bed on one hand. "Well, I mean, you could be wrong, Cas. What if it was _just_ me that went? I wouldn't be with you, and-"

"Are you always this stupid? How many more ways do I need to tell you _no_ before you understand? You shouldn't be in the same _city_ with him, much less approaching him."

Which left him, on a mission to go in and kill the only 'friend' he'd had for centuries. He'd have to do it alone and he'd have to do it fast, and when he finished, he'd have to resist the temptation to free Lucifer himself. Like he'd realized the night before, it wasn't that he didn't _want_ everything he'd been trained to want, he just wanted Dean more. And if Dean wasn't there, if he was in the heat of the moment with the blood and a knife and a doorway, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to remember that. Not as clearly as he should, anyway.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Dean." His voice came out smaller than he would've believed, shaky and almost lost, and Dean was on his feet in a heartbeat, moving as close as it seemed he thought Cas would allow.

"Sure you can. You get in, you get out. Nothin' to it. And killin' him…" He could see Dean biting back something, rage and words he was fairly sure he could've guessed. "Just…I know whatever you saw yesterday got somethin' through to you, cause you're still sticking to what you said after it now. Keep that in your head, that memory of him like that, cause that's all he is, that and a thousand times worse, thousands of things you can't even remember." He edged just a little closer after almost every word, and Cas finally huffed in frustration and yanked him in all the way against his chest, tired of him sneaking in like a skittish cat.

He stroked a hand down Dean's bare back, felt the muscles tense under his fingers and the stir of something he couldn't name in his chest. He let his head fall back against the wall, not surprised when Dean's lips followed, brushing against his exposed neck.

"I don't trust the angels, Dean."

"You and me both."

He laughed, scratched his nails lightly over Dean's spine, and smirked when he shivered. "And yet that's where we're going."

"I trust 'em that far, at least. They won't go back on that." He sounded so sure, and even though it sounded crazy, Cas could feel himself hoping Dean was right. If he wasn't, he couldn't see how they'd make it down here.

"So…" He slid his hand lower, curling it against the small of Dean's back as he held him. "I do this, we're done."

"Yeah, I promise."

He shut his eyes, head thunking back against the wall again. "Dean, I might free Lucifer."

Dean turned in against his chest, words muffled against his skin. "Been there, done that. Please don't."

"I'm serious. I'm not sure I can…_be_ there, go that far, and not go through with it."

Dean pulled back and looked at him then, eyes open and honest and unafraid. "I don't think you will. I honestly think you're stronger than that. But if you do, you do. Just…don't trust him, because he's a bastard even to your kind. You just get the hell out before he shows himself and come back and get me before the shit hits the fan."

Castiel was speechless, and Dean's eyebrows rose, curious. "Oh, what, you expected me to say I'm leavin' you then? Cause that's really getting insulting. I'm not taking off on you, alright? I'd just rather you didn't start another apocalypse. It was annoying enough the first time around."

He laughed, surprising himself, and his hands came up to cup Dean's face and pull him in for a kiss, his teeth grazing rough over Dean's lower lip as he tugged on it. "You are…" He shook his head, at a loss. "Brave _and_ stupid, I'm thinking."

Dean grinned, one sided. "Gee, what compliments. Cas, I'm touched."

He shoved him back and Dean let go of him easily, apparently feeling now that the conversation had eased down enough for him to turn his back and get dressed. He gave him a minute, waited to ask his next question until he was almost done, in the process of pulling his t-shirt over his head.

"Where am I going?"

"You're going…huh."

He slouched back against the wall, hands in his pockets. "I seriously doubt that's a place."

"Can it, smart ass." He tugged on the hem of his shirt, pulling it down all the way before he looked up. "It's just- dad's old journal, the first thing he wrote was, 'I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.' Sam and I figured out later that it wasn't the state, just a person, but this time…" He shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. "Jacob's Cave, south of Versailles, Missouri. That's where he is, in a hole in the ground that you and Michael sealed, after we helped you trap him. In a hole in the ground with a shit ton of wards around it: that's where he'll be. _But_-" He stood up, crossing over to the dresser and yanking the car keys off. "You're not leaving just yet. I'm gonna go grab us some breakfast first, and when I get back we can pull the maps outta the car and I'll tell you everything I remember about the lay of the land, okay?"

Sounded reasonable enough. Now that he'd started really thinking about it though, he was having a hard enough time actually considering killing Macchion. But he nodded, and Dean disappeared out the door.

* * *

From the moment he got back, Dean knew something was wrong. The door was hanging half off its hinges, the lock busted and blown inward.

He bolted out of the car without a thought, without even bothering to yank the keys out of the ignition after he pulled it into park. He cleared the ground quick and threw the door open, feeling the sick rise of his heart pounding in his throat.

Cas was in the center of the room, grappling with an angel. They were locked in close combat, and though the angel mostly blocked Cas from view the glimpse he got wasn't good. There was a blade buried in his left shoulder and that arm hung limp, bleeding profusely and clearly out of commission. He was doing everything he could with his right arm, hand at the moment clenched tight around the angel's throat.

It had taken maybe two seconds to take it all in, but Dean couldn't waste any more. He reached for the table by the window, yanked Cas's bag open, feeling without looking, keeping his eyes trained on the action. His eyes met Cas's over the angel's shoulder, and what he saw shocked him. They were orange, yeah, gleaming and demonic, and there was fury there, but there was honest fear there, too.

He'd been expecting Dean to come walking back through the door and he hadn't been ready, and now…

Dean's decision formed in an instant, and crazy or not, he knew what he was doing. His hand closed around the knife and he stood up, yanked his shirt aside, and slashed across the pentagram over his heart, breaking the lines. He hissed only a little at the pain, gritted his teeth through it, and met Cas's eyes again.

He meant to yell and it came out as a whisper, but he knew Cas would hear him anyway.

"Cas. C'mere."

* * *

0:)


	12. Chapter 12

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At first, Dean felt like he was drowning. Unlike Sam, he hadn't had the experience of being possessed at any point in his life, and he had no frame of reference for how jarring it was right from the start. There was black smoke pouring down his throat and into his lungs and_ everywhere_, and it was nearly impossible to remember it was Cas, and that he didn't need to panic.

Really, less 'nearly' and more just plain impossible. He couldn't breathe, and it felt like every nerve ending in his body was being wrapped in fire before it fizzed out into nothingness. Perfect disconnection. Panicking was really a _light_ word for it, and it wasn't until he heard Cas's voice calling out to him inside his head that he started to calm down enough for anything to even make sense.

_**Dean! Dean, dammit, answer me!**_

His first mistake was trying to speak. He could literally feel _nothing_, could only see in snatches, and the struggle of trying to talk brought on a fresh wave of panic.

_**Dean, are you… you're in here, aren't you? Dean?**_

The fear that wavered through Cas's thoughts broke through enough to help Dean focus, and he settled down a little. _'M here. I'm here, Cas, it's ok. _Relatively speaking. He was still seeing the world in strobe light vision, and if he paid enough attention to that, it was nearly enough to make him sick. Not that being sick really mattered, considering he didn't have control over his body. _God,_ this was gonna suck.

_**I thought for a minute… Oh, will you calm the hell down? You're giving me a headache. Just… here. Hold on.**_ As if everything so far hadn't been odd enough, he could literally _feel_ Cas moving inside him, smoke shifting and refocusing, and when he had finished settling in, Dean could see properly at least. Not that he had control or even feeling of anything else, more like he'd just become a floating pair of eyes._** Better?**_

_Well, I don't feel like I'm gonna throw up now. Guess that's a plus. _ But _fuck_, there were so many ways this was uncomfortable. If he'd had to list them, he'd hardly have known where to start. Except…_ Dude, can you breathe? That's seriously unnerving._

Cas took a breath, chuckled, and shook his head. "Sorry. Hadn't realized that would upset you." Pacing, he glanced up at himself in the mirror, and for the first time Dean realized they'd already zapped off to somewhere else, probably while he still felt like he was trying to breathe water. Cas was studying his reflection carefully, and Dean was a little startled seeing his _own_ eyes flicker orange as Cas's fingers trailed close to the pentagram tattoo.

"You didn't have to do this, you know. I wouldn't have asked it of you."

His voice was jarringly soft. Figured, he _would_ sound the most affected at just the moment Dean couldn't even touch him. …because he _was_ him. God, this was fuckin' weird. _It's ok. I didn't do it 'cause I thought you'd ask me; I did it 'cause I wanted to._

Dean watched his own hand finish tracing the broken pentagram, hesitating before sliding over to raise his shirt sleeve and press against the handprint. Of course, his own hand had never fit it exactly, but it was a closer fit than Cas's new vessel's had been. He flattened his hand fully against it, thumb digging in a little.

_**I wonder…**_

That was all the warning Dean got before he could feel mist swirling around in his head again. It was pushing deeper than before, invasive and uncomfortable, and he tried nervously to draw farther back into his own head. _Hey… what're you-_

_**Your memories. I can't push you down too far or I'll kill you, but I was thinking… yes. Be still.**_

Suddenly, Dean wasn't seeing the mirror anymore.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

_Dean fidgeted with the knife, cautious and circling away from whatever it was that had just blasted in with the storm. "Who are you?" _

_It didn't seem in the slightest phased by all the rounds it had taken in the chest. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." _

_**For your own motives**__. "Yeah? Thanks for that." Without giving the thing a chance to attack, Dean swung the knife and stabbed down hard into its chest, expecting to feel the crackling power of the knife and see the light go out in its eyes. _

_It looked down, mildly interested, before dragging the knife out and dropping it to the ground. Bobby swung next from behind, and the thing that couldn't be a man turned and caught the iron, reaching out to touch Bobby's forehead with two fingers, dropping him to the ground and looking on with the same expression it had used for the blade sticking out of its chest. _

_Dean was at an utter loss. This guy, on the other hand… all normalcy. _

"_We need to talk, Dean." _

_**Right.**__ "Who are you?"_

"_Castiel." Even that accent sounded old. _

"_Yeah, I figured that much, I mean _what_ are you?" _

_It had been skimming over one of Bobby's books but looked up now, all seriousness. "I'm an angel of the Lord." _

_**Bullshit**__. His whole life, as long as he'd been hunting, as long as _Dad_ had been hunting, there'd never been any sign of angels. Which there couldn't be, because they didn't exist. It was a nice fairy tale that some people bought, and if it made them sleep better at night, good for them. But this? This was probably just a high level demon, and he needed to figure out how to get rid of it. _

_He stood up slow, wary. "Get the hell outta here. There's no such thing." _

_Castiel turned from the book, almost smiling at first. "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Lightning flashed then, and through the cracks in the warehouse he could see the silhouette of massive wings, showing up in stark relief against the gray metal. _

_He'd never seen anything like it, but he couldn't let himself show surprise. "Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Not that he was convinced, not yet. Lots of things had wings. _

_Castiel held his hands up, pacifying. He was acting so goddamn normal. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be… overwhelming to humans. So can my true voice, but you already knew that."_

"_You mean the gas station and the motel?" He'd suspected some sort of connection, but geez… not exactly that. "That was you _talking_?" An easy nod, like that should have been assumed. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume." __**To say the least.**_

"_It was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I had thought you would be one of them. I was wrong." _

_Well, that part made sense at least. If it was a holy man they needed, he was about as far from holy as they were gonna get. "And what visage are you in now, huh? Holy tax accountant?" _

_Castiel tugged a little at his trench coat, looked down for the first time at the bullet holes in his shirt. "This? This is a vessel."_

_If he was an angel, they certainly weren't a step up from what he was used to. "You're possessing some poor bastard?" Maybe those legends about the original demons and angels comin' from the same place had some truth in them after all. _

"_He's a devout man; he actually prayed for this." He made it sound so easy, like he actually believed he was doin' this guy some kind of service. _

"_Look pal, I'm not buyin' what you're sellin', so who are you, really?" Demon was still his highest bet. _

"_I told you." Jesus, the guy honestly looked confused. _

"_Right. And why would an angel rescue me from hell?" He hadn't wanted to go for that argument, really, but it was the most obvious proof that the guy was lying. If angels did exist, they'd probably been cheerfully watching him roast. Last he'd checked, the church frowned on selling your soul. And torturing. And most of the others things he'd ever done._

"_Good things do happen, Dean." He was edging closer, closing in, but Dean didn't back down. _

"_Not in my experience." Never. Ever. Unless he counted getting to bring Sam back from the dead, (which he did,) but that wasn't an all around good experience. Just good in the sense that he hadn't had to lose him. _

_Castiel cocked his head, blue eyes that looked unnaturally bright filling with confusion and something unnervingly like pity. "What's the matter?" Then, understanding and disbelief, and he didn't like where this was going. "You don't think you deserve to be saved." _

_He clenched his jaw, defenses snapping up against a blow that hit too close to home. "Why'd you do it?" _

_Surprisingly, Castiel didn't push. "Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you." _

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

_He couldn't count the number of times he'd had sex in the Impala. Literally. Sam would have said that was really sad, and Sam might've been right, but Dean would never have admitted it. It wasn't __**bad**__… it was just… a lot. Hell, the car was convenient, especially when he was younger. And besides, it was his baby. That was reason enough. _

_This wasn't even really sex, and still he could tell it was going to be the time that really mattered. Or at least, the start of several of those. He knew Cas had known about him and Anna, had known it for awhile, and been reminded of it every time his blue eyes seemed to burn through the handprint on his shoulder. Even though they'd only kissed once before Dean had met her, there'd been plenty more since he'd left to join him and Sam, but ever since she'd touched the mark, Cas had subtly refused to, like he could somehow sense her there and couldn't stand to even look at it. _

_Now, Dean was thinkin' that might change. He was tired of Cas thinking he had anything to be jealous of, and they'd done well tonight. The demons they'd taken on in Connecticut were dead, and they'd been on their way back to Maine and to Sam waiting for them in a hotel room when Dean pulled over on the side of the road in Nowheresville, parked in a stand of pines, and shut Cas up with a quick 'Get in the back' when Cas asked him why they'd stopped. _

_He was straddling Cas's lap, kissing him slow and deep with his fingers tangled in his hair. He moaned softly in encouragement when Cas's hands tightened on his waist, and he pulled back a little to work open the buttons on his shirt, first loosening his tie. His chest was heaving underneath it, and when Dean pressed his hand over his heart, he could feel it hammering against his palm. His eyes were wide open and almost innocent, but still eager, and Dean couldn't help but be a little shocked. _

"_You've never… you've seriously never done this before." It started out as a question, but really, looking at him the answer was obvious. Shit, he'd never for five seconds actually believed that, even being holy, anyone would spend all those years without… __**Damn. **__That had to suck. _

_Castiel shook his head, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes cast down, away from Dean's gaze. Dean didn't let him get away, instead ducked his head and kissed him, cupping his jaw with a gentle hand. Fuck, he didn't wanna treat him like a _girl, '_cause he knew Cas would hate that, but he _was_ a virgin, and he was a freakin' _angel,_ and…_

_He rested his forehead against Castiel's, rubbed his thumb against the slight stubble on his cheek. "It's alright. That's alright. Just trust me, huh? I know what I'm doing." Shit, that didn't sound as good once he'd said it as it had in his head. Yeah, that was just what Cas needed, a reminder that Dean had fucked pretty much everything pretty he'd run into since the age of 15 or so. _

"_I trust you." It came out shallow and uneven like his breath, and Dean pulled back enough to tug his own t-shirt off, pressing back in close and trying not to smile at the way Cas didn't exactly know what to do with his hands. One of them pressed against his lower back, the other resting tentatively against his elbow before sliding up. _

_Castiel's breath hitched, and he slid his hand the last distance needed to fit against the brand. Dean wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting, but it had been something more along the lines of 'that's kinda hot,' as opposed to 'holy fucking _shit,_ don't move', but that was more like it, honestly. There was power in it, humming just under his skin from where Cas flexed his palm against his shoulder, and now that he was sort of thinking about it (as much as he could think at the moment,) why wouldn't that be the case? He'd grabbed Dean from the pit using his freaky angel powers, burned him with something that probably came from his Grace… of course it would resonate. _

"_I marked you." It was so soft he barely heard it, the possessiveness, the tone something like a kid's with a favorite toy all at the same time, and Dean smiled, a soft huff of laughter escaping his throat. _

"_Yeah." Not that he was at all opposed to that. Cas rubbed his thumb against the mark and he shivered with appreciation, nuzzled closer, and sought Cas's lips again. While they were kissing, Cas pulled him closer, flush up against his chest, and Dean settled a little more firmly into his lap. Cas's body jerked, rising erratically to press up against him, and he stroked his thumb against his jaw, both soothing and encouraging. _

_There'd be plenty of chances to have sex in the Impala. For tonight, this was gonna be enough. _

Dean felt disoriented all over again as his vision swirled back into focus and Cas drew back from how deeply he'd been possessing his mind. His breathing was quick and a little uneven, and Dean could see his own eyes wide in the mirror. Honestly, he was still trying to wrap his head around how fuckin' bizarre it was to see someone else's reactions on his own face, but he was gettin' there.

"You remember everything." His voice was barely above a whisper, somewhere between shocked and something Dean couldn't quite place.

_I know. I told you._

_**You did. I just…**_ He paced, clearly frustrated, and Dean wished like hell there'd been another way to fix the situation back in the room, 'cause at the moment he wanted nothing more than to be able to grab Cas and force him to stand still and make sense.

"Thinking how far I've come… what I was, and... what I am… I- I'm not sure how I…" Ah. Yeah, _that_ Dean understood. Hell, it wasn't exactly the same, but he'd been there, and he still knew what it was to stand on the side of the road and try to tell his little brother how he missed watching skin split open under the touch of his blade. He'd known it felt _wrong_, but that hadn't been able to be enough to stop him from wanting it. It'd been more than enough, on the other hand, to make him hate himself just a little more, and to make him want to hide in a bottle and never crawl back out.

He couldn't lose Cas to _himself_, not when he was finally starting to get him back.

_Hey, I know. It's okay, alright? It's gonna take a while, but it's gonna be okay, I promise. You just gotta trust me, Cas, but we can't talk about this right now, okay? We can talk about it when we leave._ 'Cause if they started talking about it right now, it was a conversation too easy to get lost in, and long before they'd finished, Lucifer could be free if Macchion played things just right. _You still with me?_

Cas swallowed, ran his hands over his face as he sat down heavily on the bed. "Yes. I'm…with you."

_Good. That's good. Look, can you tell me what the hell happened after I left? _

Castiel growled, deep and angry, and immediately Dean realized he probably shouldn't have brought it up. "He came in and I wasn't ready. I hadn't even sensed him because I wasn't thinking to look. I was thinking… I-" He growled again, shook his head, and was pacing again in a second. "He got the jump on me, but if we go back-"

_Cas, no. Please, listen to me here, okay? We can't worry about him now. We've gotta keep moving. Just… did he say anything? Give a name? _

"No. No name. He said only that among many of the host, I'm not welcome. They believe I deserve to die for my crimes."

There was both simmering anger and a bitter resignation in the words, and Dean tried to keep his own anger in check. The stupid fuckers. This _right here_ was one of the reasons why he'd found it so hard to get into religion on earth. If God gave a crap, he wouldn't let his angels go around thinking it was alright to judge the fuckin' hell outta people after his own Son had preached eternal forgiveness. Something about it just wasn't right.

_Michael had said something about that the other day. He said-_

"That he was sending someone to kill me because you couldn't do it properly?"

_Will you shut up?_ God, what he would have given to have a _voice_ to yell back at Cas with instead of just what he hoped was at least a forceful thought. _Listen, I know Michael, okay? He's a friend, and I trust him, even if he is kind of a dick sometimes. He's not like them; he means well, and I promise, if he says he's not gonna hurt you, and that he'll let you come home with me, he means it. But he did say not everyone agreed with him, and that some other garrisons might be out to put you down before you get that far. Or to bait you into killing me or something, proving I was wrong._

"And you didn't tell me this, why?" Internally Dean winced, shrinking away from Cas's anger. There was something of the demon in his voice just then, seething and dangerous. "If they'd provoked me I could've killed you, you idiot, why the _hell_ would you-"

_Would you have believed me anyway? Yesterday, before everything went down, if I'd said, "Oh, by the way, Cas, Michael's not out to hurt you, but I think everyone else pretty much has a hit out on you," would you have believed me?_

Castiel scoffed and ripped off a closet door to channel a little bit of his frustration. "I'm not even sure I believe you _now_."

_Cas, c'mon, man…_

Apparently, the pleading in his thoughts had some effect. Cas deflated a little, chest heaving slightly with short, frustrated breaths. "So, I just let him go? He tried to _kill_ me, Dean. I would think you'd-"

_Look, believe me, I hate the bastard! Whoever he is, he deserves you tearin' him apart. But if you go after him, they'll just keep comin' and we'll be outta time. We've got to go to Missouri, _now_._

For a moment, Dean wasn't sure if he was going to listen or not. Cas turned to face the mirror then, and Dean could see the determination in his own green eyes. "To Jacob's Cave."

It wasn't really a question.

_Yeah. Just stop by the car for like two seconds and grab the gun, zap us down there, and let's get this done and go home._

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Castiel's somewhat accurate angel/demon mojo had gotten them right outside the cave, and Dean had navigated him back through the tunnels from there. It was surprising, really, how well he remembered. It seemed there were some things you never forgot, some things so important and life changing they were branded into your mind in ways that made them stick around far longer than you would've thought they could.

And just as Michael had expected, Josiah Macchion was there. He was kneeling over the hole in floor, his fingers tracing the air just above the angelic runes along the outside border of the iron that Michael had melded down into the rock.

"I felt you coming, Castiel." There was a sickening affection to the words, in particular to the way he said Cas's name, and Dean wanted to jump out of his own skin and do something drastic like claw the man's throat out with his bare hands. "I have to wonder, how did you find your way?"

Castiel swallowed, his steps faltering only a little before he kept moving forward. "It's not hard if you have the right source."

The difference in his voice was enough to make Macchion turn, and when he first saw Dean's body his eyes went wide, startled.

Cas didn't give him long to think about it. "He was still following me, and he got too close. I know you said he was dangerous, Macchion, but I really don't understand why." He smirked, easy and offhand, lying with the ease of a pro. "I killed him easily enough."

For a second, Macchion's eyes narrowed, but then he burst into laughter, rising to his feet to come forward and clap Castiel on the shoulder. "I don't tell you often enough how proud I am of you, do I? You are truly our greatest accomplishment, a testament to the power of those who follow our Father." He leaned in and kissed him, teeth clacking together, and Dean couldn't manage to hide his rage when Macchion gripped his hair, tilting his head back to mark his neck.

_**Easy, Dean**_. Castiel shifted, and though he hummed appropriately in a way that sounded like pleasure, his fingers were stiff when they brushed over Macchion's shoulder. Macchion didn't seem to notice. Fucker didn't know Cas at all. His hands came to settle on Castiel's waist, and Cas's breath caught for a second in nerves. If he found the gun, they might have some trouble. It seemed, though, he wasn't interested in stripping him just then. He merely took another kiss, bit Cas's jaw, and then pulled back, eyes black and grinning.

"Are you ready? We'll free him, and he'll be so proud of us, Castiel. You can't even imagine… he'll give us everything, anything we could ever want, just like that. And when the world is in the palm of his hand, I'm sure he'll give us more than we could've ever dreamed." He pulled away, crossing back over to the hole in the earth that was surrounded by everything that was keeping evil incarnate in check. "Now, I can mostly read these, but I've never been very good at 'angel.' But you, you should be able to read it all, and you can tell me what we need to do first."

Cas was moving slowly, hesitating before taking a few cautious, measured steps toward where Macchion crouched with his back to him at the edge of the circle. There was something almost fearful in it. Try as he might to tell himself everything was alright, Dean was almost starting to panic.

_Cas? Need to do it quick, buddy._

_**What if he's right, Dean? I mean… we're **__**right here**__**. He's right here, and we might not have to trust the angels after all. If I free him, and I ask him to give you to me, then-**_

_Cas, that's just it, don't you see? He's… he's the father of all your kind, right? Just think about that for a second and tell me, on average, how trustworthy are demons? _ Really, he was trying to sound a _hell_ of lot calmer than he felt. And hoping that Cas wasn't actively searching out everything Dean was thinking, because a couple of the things that raced through his head before he squashed them down ran along the lines of 'God, what if Michael was right…' He couldn't think that; he just couldn't. Even if Cas did this, he was gonna love him anyway. Even if the thought that Cas just _might_ do this was making him a little sick at the moment.

_**I know. I know. **_He was behind Macchion now, and he leaned down, looking over his shoulder and resting one hand on it. "How much have you read?"

Macchion gestured to the blue runes in front of him, drawn with something that sparkled a little in the low light. "I think that part there says we need your blood on the seal. The rest of it though… I think that next part we have to read while it's opening, possibly."

Castiel licked his lips, his breath coming quicker as his hand tightened on Macchion's shoulder.

_Cas, ple-_

_**Quiet**_**.** He leaned in even closer, lips almost brushing Macchion's ear as he read in angelic, cryptic words that flowed and seemed to resonate in the chamber. "Yes. We read that. It's to wake him, after we give him the sacrifice. There's more, though…" He'd been teetering so close to the edge of thinking the end really was gonna be starting all over again, that if he'd been on his own, Dean just might have had a stroke when Cas's hand finally closed around the grip of the Colt tucked in snug against his back. He kept the one hand on Macchion's shoulder, his close proximity distracting him, his words keeping him focused on the inscription as he moved his right hand around, bringing the gun close to the back of his neck.

He didn't pull back the hammer, and after a few seconds Dean was starting to twitch inside all over again.

"Do you see the next line, that part there? What do you think it says? I'm not sure it's all angelic." He was buying time, and as Macchion started to read, Castiel flexed his hand against the gun.

_**Dean, I can't… I can't. We're here. We're so close to everything we've worked for, and everything he's… he trained me, as far back as I can remember. **_Cas swallowed, mouth dry. _**Dean**_…

_Okay. It's okay. Just… you don't have to. You don't have to do anything._ It was crazy, and suggesting it probably had less to do with Cas's feelings than with his own, but it could work.

_Let me do it._

Cas sucked in a sharp breath, and Dean could almost feel him thinking.

_He's not gonna hurt me, Cas. He won't even have time to know I'm here, and then you don't have to do this. Just let me take over for a second, and it'll all be over._

Cas's grip on the gun wavered.

_C'mon, Cas. Do you trust me? _

Castiel was silent, and already Dean was kicking himself. Too soon, way too soon to ask him anything important. If only he'd-

_**I don't know.**_ A little anguished, but it felt honest, and then, just like that, Dean felt life rush into his limbs again. The shock was so sudden he stumbled forward a little, but thank God for his hunter training, because before anything else could happen, he'd cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger.

He felt the Colt surge in his hand, heard the crackle of its unique power as the nearly deafening sound of the gunshot faded. When he'd staggered he'd caught himself on Macchion's shoulder, and he rolled to the side as the body came down hard on the stone, slumping forward at an awkward angle because it couldn't fall across the iron. There was blood running across the floor.

Before Dean even had time to catch his breath Castiel was resurfacing and pushing him back to the back of his mind, rising only to kneel over Macchion's body. His eyes were those of the man he'd been possessing, a soft hazel with a hint of green.

"You have to understand, Dean…" In the sudden quiet of the cave, his voice echoed. "I have no comprehension of love, but until recently, he's the only one in my memory who ever had anything other than a harsh hand for me."

_Maybe. But he had a hell of a lot of that, too._ He wanted to be understanding, he did, but good old fashioned jealousy was pretty damn strong sometimes. Especially if there was some justifiable anger to go along with it.

"Yes. Finding out, I hated him of course, but- _Dean._ Look." Sort of unnecessary to tell him when they both took it in at the same time, but considering the sight, Dean didn't really feel like pointing that out. The blood had oozed further across the stone, and it was seeping past the runes and over the iron, sliding into the grooves there to form a semicircle around the hole.

"It's alright." They jumped at the sound of Michael's voice. He sauntered over to crouch down on the other side, examining it as if it were a simple curiosity. "It's only half the puzzle. I'll reseal it myself once you're gone." He met Dean's eyes, and at first his gave nothing away. "I have to admit, Castiel, I'm impressed. I wasn't sure Dean could get through to you."

"Forgive me if I'm not impressed with the welcoming party."

Michael laughed, soft and genuine. "My, you have learned from him, haven't you? In any case, I assure you it wasn't my doing. Understandably, you're not very popular upstairs. But, that doesn't matter." He stood up, dusting his hands off. "Are you ready?"

Wary, Castiel didn't respond or even move.

Michael didn't exactly seem surprised. "By the way, Castiel, our Father wishes to speak with you."

He waved his hand, and everything went black.

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	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Wow…I can't believe it's over. I've been writing TRIH since last summer, and I can still remember perfectly clearly sitting in organic chem and researching Jacob's Cave. I've _loved_ working on this story, and I'm so excited to finally be able to show you the end I've (mostly) had in mind from the beginning. I say 'mostly' because as I wrote this one, I learned something really important…you can't give a story a happy ending that isn't possible, and you can't give it one it hasn't earned.

Months ago, I would've said this had a crazily fluffy ending. It does not. But that's better, because Cas is a demon, and Cas is going to remain a demon, and that's part of his character now. But he's a demon who's healing, and _that's_ someone I can give a different kind of happy ending to. So here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you all so, _so_ much. The response to this has been amazing and beyond anything I ever expected, and I love all you readers to pieces. ^^

Thanks too to my beta ceci9293, who is awesome and who encourages me and polishes this stuff up for me and...yeah. She's awesome all around, : )

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Everything was white.

At first Dean was blinded by it, and he shut his eyes and threw an arm up over them even though it didn't seem to help. Those first few seconds, it was like being inside a fluorescent bulb or something, and somewhere at the back of his mind, he realized that he couldn't remember dying being this bright. It had been more of a gradual growth of light, more like sunlight, which had left him standing on the grass outside his childhood home.

When he drew his arm down away from his eyes, he realized he wasn't standing in the grass anywhere. In fact, it didn't look like he was standing on anything at all. Everything was the same fucking, blinding shade of white, and he was just starting to seriously wonder what the hell was going on when the space in front of him suddenly wasn't empty.

Even if he'd needed to breathe, really honestly _needed_ it, he wouldn't have been able to. His chest was squeezed so damn tight he would've sworn he could feel his heart being nearly sliced through by his ribs. "_Cas._" He barely managed to choke the word out, so far beyond awe he didn't have a word for it.

He was right there in front of him, the way Dean had known him, the appearance his soul had taken on after spending so many important years in Jimmy Novak's old body. Sure, Dean had seen him that way in his dreams all the time, but this? This was different. He was whole, and clean, and fucking _bathed_ in white light, wings arching out from his shoulders, soft and dove-like, just as Dean remembered. Except, he wasn't holding them quite like he should have, not high and proud, and when Dean let his gaze meet those piercing, blue eyes, the agony there made _him_ hurt as surely as if he were feeling it.

"Dean." His voice was steady, almost hard, but Dean could hear something vulnerable in it. Cas wouldn't meet his eyes. "I…I told Him He shouldn't give me anything back, that I'm a demon, and I don't deserve-"

"Cas, dammit, _stop_." There were a lot of things he could take, especially now, but seeing Cas like this, the limp way his wings were hanging, like they were still broken… He couldn't bear it, could feel his skin burning with the _wrongness_ of it. No matter what he had done, out of the two of them, Castiel was still the more holy, the more righteous. He always would be. He was the good one, the brave one, and Dean was so far tarnished that the thought of anything else was ludicrous. He grabbed the lapels of that familiar old trench coat and jerked, trying to force Cas to pay attention. Cas let himself be pulled forward, limp as a ragdoll. "I mean it, Cas. Cut it out, okay? Hey…look at me." He didn't, not at first, and Dean edged closer, dipped his head to catch his eyes. "C'mon. Cas, look at me."

He did, but he looked as if it pained him to do it. The look on his face…even when he'd sat down and thought about how it'd be when Cas knew everything, he'd never imagined it this bad. "After…after everything I did- in hell, and then afterward- and the way I treated _you_…" He clenched his eyes shut, looked away. "Dean, I would understand if you-"

"Alright, can we be done with this?"

Cas's eyes snapped open at that, pitifully wide, and questioning, and so fucking blue Dean could hardly think.

Dean brought his hand up, brushed it against his angel's cheek, and felt for him all over again when Cas didn't even lean into the touch like he normally would have. He flinched, his eyes betraying how much he clearly thought he didn't deserve Dean's tenderness. "Look, I'm sorry. You wanna feel sorry for yourself, and I get it. I really do. But I didn't go down there to haul your ass up here just so you could destroy yourself in a different way. And I sure as hell didn't save you just to lose you all over again." He softened, stroked the pad of his thumb across Cas's cheekbone. "I know, okay? I mean, not all the way. I've never…most of the things you went through, I didn't go that far. But I have an idea. And I know it's eatin' at you, and I gotta tell you, it won't stop. Not really. But it gets better." He swallowed hard, felt his own throat closing up. "And I'm gonna help you, okay? I'm gonna help you. I promise, Cas, we're gonna get through this."

Castiel let his eyes fall again, his words quiet when he spoke. "I hate angels, Dean. I hate them, and I'm supposed to be one of them, and I…I _miss_ the screams from the souls, but at the same time now, I can remember some of their faces, the looks in their eyes…" His breath hitched, and Dean's grip on him tightened. "You. I can see the way you looked at me, after I…" He took a deep breath, his wings drawing in closer to his body. "You should have sent me to hell to rot. I don't…I don't deserve to be here, Dean. Not at all, and certainly not with you."

There was an angry reply on the tip of his tongue, but something better came to him almost as fast, and he bit back the furious retort just in time. Instead, he spoke softly, the weight of his words carrying them well enough without volume. "So, you think you weren't worth saving, is that it?" _That_ got his attention. Just as Dean had known it would. Dean smiled for him, gentle and almost relaxed. "I'm not leaving you to rot anywhere, not even up here. I'm sorry, but I'm a stubborn ass like that."

He could see the moment Castiel gave in. Something shifted, maybe even broke, and he let himself slump forward, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of Dean's neck just like it always had. His wings came up around them, locking them together and shielding them from white light that didn't seem so otherworldly anymore. Dean held on tight, the fingers of one hand burying in Castiel's hair to cradle his head, his lips brushing softly against the angel's ear as he whispered to him.

"Shhh. We're gonna be okay. I've got this. Everything's gonna be alright, Cas. I promise. I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" He wasn't at all sure that Castiel believed him just yet, but whether he did or not, he didn't let go. He just held on tighter, his hands gripping hard enough to bruise. He didn't have to believe him just yet. For now, the fact that Cas was going to let him try was more than enough.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The house appeared like an image in a Polaroid picture, fading in out of the light until the light was gone, and they were left standing in the yard. Cas pulled away and withdrew his wings, his hands shoving down into his pockets as his shoulders hunched. He still had the hard glint in his eye he'd developed during his time in hell, but it wasn't _quite_ the same. Right now there was fearful uncertainty there too, and Dean stepped in just a little closer, bumping a shoulder against him.

"C'mon. Let's get inside." _Finally_, he was gonna be able to introduce Cas to his parents. He'd told them about him, of course, and while he'd been worried his dad wouldn't approve, he'd been alright with it. Of course, that did beg the question of whether he was _really_ alright with it, or if Heaven had _made_ him be alright with it, but Dean didn't particularly want to know. He'd like to think his father would have been alright knowing he'd found someone to love.

Cas was hanging back, and he slowed to match up with him, glancing over at him with questioning eyes.

He murmured softly under his breath, "What do they know about me?"

"Just that you're an angel, and we're together, and I've missed you like crazy, and I went down 'cause you were in some kinda trouble."

Cas nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Let's keep it that way."

While Dean could understand that in principle, it wasn't gonna fly. Not all the way, at least. "Hold up, Cas." He caught his arm and pulled him to a stop, something that was incredibly easy to do considering he'd been walking toward the house with all the speed of a dying snail. "Sam deserves to know the truth." Even if it hadn't been _his_ Sammy, he'd have still thought that. You spend close to 50 years with someone, you earn the right to know when something like this happens to them.

Cas looked away, squinting up into the heat of Kansas sun before he nodded. "Alright. But no one else."

"No one else." He nudged him with his shoulder again, gently. "You ready?"

He actually laughed at that, and Dean was so happy to see it, he damn near could've cried. "No, actually. Far from it."

"Well, don't worry. They're gonna love you."

They were almost there when John and Mary came out to greet them on the porch. Even up here, where things were good all the time, there was still something about his dad's hugs that made Dean feel like he'd done something _right_, and he held on a little longer than he strictly needed to. As soon as he let go, he reached back for the sleeve of Castiel's trench coat to tug him up beside him. "Dad, this is Cas."

"John Winchester." He held out his hand, smiling, and though Cas took it warily, it was clear he was trying. He stiffened when Mary hugged him, tensing further when she kissed his cheek.

"It's so good to finally meet you, Castiel. Dean's told me all about you."

"I'm sure." His smile was thin, and even though Dean had been looking forward to bringing Cas home for more years than he could count, it was clear that, with the way Cas was now, this was something that was gonna take a little work. Not that he minded. Not at all. Cas was here now, and they had all the time in the world. That was more than good enough.

Sam came barreling out to wrap Dean in a hug the way only his gargantuan little brother could, and he laughed and told Sam he was too much of a heavy ass to be grabbing people like that, though he kept holding on while he said it. If there was anyone other than Cas he had desperately needed since he'd gone back down to earth, it was Sammy.

As soon as they separated, he was reminded of reason #2035 why Sam was the most amazing brother in the world (not that he'd ever tell _that_ to him. Bitch had enough of an ego already.). No one knew Cas even close to as well as he did – except for Sam. Though he'd almost reached out to pull Cas into one of his bone crushing hugs, he'd stopped short the minute he really _looked_ at him. He knew Cas well enough to see that _something_ was seriously wrong, and for a second he looked worried as his eyes darted over to meet Dean's questioningly. But this was heaven, and even though Sam clearly knew something was still wrong, he couldn't stay worried.

Dean was annoyed by that. For a second. He needed to remember it, to hang on to why it had bugged him, because the next time Michael stopped by for a chat, he was gonna tell him he'd like the weird happy vibes lifted. They'd be happy enough up here together on their own without it being rammed down their throats. Sam had been introducing Cas to Jess while Dean was lost in thought, and he only paid attention when Sam tugged on his arm, dragging him over to the side.

"Is Cas okay?"

Honestly, how the fuck _could_ he answer that? He smiled, shook his head as he watched Cas lean up against the doorframe, looking out at the empty street. "Honestly? No way in hell. But he's workin' on it." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam's mouth open, and he shook his head again. "Not right now, okay? Let's let him breathe a little. We'll tell you everything together tomorrow, I promise." Or maybe the day after. After everything that had happened, they needed some serious downtime. He didn't want to keep Sam in the dark, not at all, but he needed a breather as much as Cas did, a chance to remind himself it was all over.

Starting now, actually, because if Cas shrunk back into that wall any more he was gonna become part of it. Dean slapped Sam on the back and made his way over to the door, sliding in between Castiel and his mother. "Look, we're gonna go pass out. It's been sort of exhausting." The understatement of the year, but it wasn't like it mattered. No one could really think of anything too unpleasant up here. She kissed him, told him she'd leave dinner in the fridge for them if they wanted to come down in the middle of the night for a snack. Whatever else he might have to say about the management, Dean had never really had a problem with Heaven. There was nothing like it.

Cas followed him up the stairs to his room, going over to the window while Dean locked the door. When he turned around, Castiel was at his desk, a picture frame in his hands. "Did this really happen?" He tilted it just enough for Dean to see, and Dean nodded even though Cas wasn't watching, then drifted across the room to lean into his side.

"Yeah. Yeah, it did. That was right after we'd moved in." It was a picture Sam had taken of the first real night in their house in Denver. Bobby'd helped them move in and had been staying for a few nights. All three of them were laughing at something in the picture. Cas had a full shot in his hand, while Dean had clearly already taken his, and he had one arm thrown around Cas's neck, laughing at the same time as he leaned to whisper something in his ear. Dean had rolled his eyes when Sam bought the damn camera, but that one picture alone was worth the price of it.

Cas nodded, set it down, and let his fingers trail across the frame. Dean ran his fingers through Cas's hair, at a loss as to how much he could say, how much he could _ask_. "Did you, ah… Michael said God wanted to talk to you."

Castiel nodded, still distant. "He did."

Dean shrugged and stepped back to put a little distance between them. "And… what'd he say to you?"

"Many things." His voice dropped even quieter, rough and low, and Dean knew to let it go. Apparently, this was something Cas wanted to keep to himself for now. That was fine. He could understand…he'd definitely had a few conversations he'd shared with his own dad that weren't ever gonna be repeated.

"I'm sorry that I'm not what they expected." Dean jerked, the suddenness of Cas's words startling him enough that at first he couldn't even answer. "I can try, but they're going to know that I'm _wrong_, that I'm…"

"Cas, whoa, hey…" He reached out, tugged Cas around to face him. "None of that matters, okay? I told you they were gonna love you, and I meant it. Nobody here's gonna care. They're not." That was one thing about his family that he was absolutely sure of. Not a one of them would ever judge anyone on the things they'd done in hell. The majority of them had been there themselves, or at least experienced some form of demonic tendencies.

Still, it was clear Cas wasn't gonna accept that yet. He was gonna have to get to know them for himself, to learn even Sam all over again. For now, Dean just wanted him to stop thinking so hard 'cause it looked like it was about to drive him crazy. "Cas, c'mere." Dean curled his hand around the back of Castiel's neck and pulled him in, and at first Cas actually let him control it. He'd have been more excited about that, though, if he hadn't been so damn slack in his arms altogether. It was _wrong_, and he could tell Castiel still wasn't with him.

Dean pulled back just a little, rubbed gently at the back of Cas's neck. "It's alright."

"I don't… I don't know how to do this, how to be the Castiel you know, I-"

"I think I can help you with that, though for the most part, I'm pretty confident you can figure it out yourself. But you don't have to do that today, Cas. Hell, not even this _year_. It'll be alright, you'll see. Just… just don't _try_ to be anything." He kissed him, barely a brush of their lips. "And stop worryin', you're gonna drive me crazy. Just… just come to bed." He didn't even have to waste time going over to turn out his light. It went out obediently, the only light remaining that of the late evening sun outside, setting red and orange over a world that was Kansas, and South Dakota, and Nebraska, and none of the above all at the same time.

Dean stepped back to toe off his boots, yanked his shirt over his head quickly, and felt the amulet come to rest cool against his chest. One glance down to unfasten his belt had his eye catching on the pentagram, whole and unbroken once again. The rest of his body was blank in largely the same way, wiped clean of most of the scars he remembered, except for his favorites, like the one he got saving Sam from a troll when he was 15, or the slice from that banshee he and Dad fought in Vegas. And the handprint, of course. That one he would've never been willing to lose.

He looked up to see Castiel watching him with increasingly hungry eyes as he stripped, and when Dean slipped into sheets that were already warm, Cas was quick to follow, naked in the blink of an eye and leaning over Dean, eyes raking over his chest. Dean chuckled, reached up to run his hands down Cas's sides.

"You _can_ do it that way, but you know it's a little more fun to strip the old fashioned way. I mean, I think so anyway, but maybe I just got so used to-"

Cas shut him up, kissing him hard and fast and dominating, his hips flexing closer to Dean's. His tongue was thorough, and _fuck,_ it felt good, but Dean had had enough of fucking like they were about to die to last him a couple of weeks at least. He brought one hand up to cup Cas's jaw in his hand, pulled back and just breathed with their lips barely touching until Cas got the idea, gentling a little when Dean raised up to kiss him again.

Cas slid his right hand down to rest over the handprint, flexing his fingers into position. _God_, yeah, that was it. That was perfect. "Cas…" Dean whispered his name against Castiel's lips, trailed kisses down until he could suck gently at his jaw, nuzzling him then, and feeling the scratch of stubble against his skin.

He could feel Cas breathing against his ear, hot and heavy. "What do you want, Dean? I don't remember… I-"

Dean moaned, for a moment arching up and losing himself in how much he'd missed the sound of that voice. He'd started to get used to how Castiel had been on earth, but _damn,_ he'd missed this. He pulled back to press his hand against Cas's shoulder. "Shh. It's okay. Let me." He pushed a little harder, waited for Cas to give in and roll over before he moved with him. "Just let me… _yeah_." Castiel tilted his head back, offering Dean his throat again, and it was such a gesture of trust that Dean lost his train of thought, dipping his head to lick and suck at the exposed skin until he marked him, loving the way Cas groaned low in his chest when he did. He was so hard already, he found himself rocking against the mattress, one hand sliding down Cas's chest ready to curl around him before he managed to clear his head enough to remember that this wasn't how he wanted this to go. He pulled back. "Here. Sit up."

Cas huffed a little about it but complied, and Dean smiled when he saw the protest go out of his eyes the minute he straddled Cas's lap. "C'mon, where'd you think I was goin'?" He didn't give him time to answer, just leaned in and kissed him. This time it wasn't rough, wasn't even hurried, and warmth spread out under Dean's skin. Castiel was already learning. Dean settled in, one hand tangling in Cas's hair, the other wrapped loosely around both of them in between their bellies, his strokes slow and easy. It was only enough for a couple minutes. He'd missed this, missed _Cas_, and right now he wanted more. He reached over to try and find the drawer to his bedside table, jerking a little in surprise when the bottle of lube appeared suddenly in his hand. He brought it around in front of him to uncap the bottle, stopping when Cas grabbed his wrist.

There was something warring in his eyes, something dark that looked more like damaged than it did dangerous. "I won't hurt you." He wasn't sure if it was supposed to a statement or a question, but the same answer went for both.

He kept their eyes locked, tried to make sure Castiel understood. "You won't." Yeah, Cas clearly wasn't buying it. And honestly, considering how much what had happened in those first few days had _sucked_, he was more than a little affected to know that it was bothering Cas already. That meant a hell of a lot, and it went right along with what Dean had expected, and why he'd done his best to stay as 'okay' as he could. There were so many things that were gonna add weight to Cas's shoulders as he remembered, and the last thing he wanted to be was a burden.

So yeah, treading carefully on a sensitive subject he understood, and it was a huge step in the right direction to know that he was seriously learning regret. But at the moment, he didn't have enough of his brain working to manage a lot of reassurance. Seduction? That he could do if he had just two brain cells to rub together, so even when he _tried_ to go for comfort, it came out sounding a little more like porn than he'd intended.

He nuzzled against him, whispering soft against his ear. "C'mon, Cas. It's alright, babe. It's alright. I promise this isn't like before. You're not gonna hurt me." He licked the shell of his ear, felt Castiel shudder. "C'mon. Cas, want you inside me so fuckin' bad. It's not gonna be like that; I just wanna feel you."

Cas groaned, his hips working up against Dean's at the words, his head nodding and dropping to rest against Dean's shoulder. His hands twisted harder in the sheets, and Dean realized that was where his hands had been for the last few minutes. Dean wasn't sure if Castiel had kept his super demon strength up here, but whether he had or not, Cas was afraid he had, and that was enough to be a problem.

Well, it might take some time, but they'd figure it out. As problems went, this was one he could handle. He popped the top open and coated his fingers, leaned into Castiel and bit his lip as he worked himself open. He was trying to be quick 'cause he knew he was too turned on to draw it out, but his hand stuttered slower when Cas started to mouth across his shoulder. That was gonna have to be enough. He slid his hand away, drizzled a little more onto his fingers to coat over Cas's length before he pulled up on his knees and then sank down. He went slowly, as much for Cas's benefit as his, and when he was finally flush against him he wrapped his arms around Cas's neck, holding him close. He was shaking just a little, and when he shifted forward they both cried out softly.

_This_. This was exactly the kind of connection they'd had in what had been some of the best years of Dean's life, and it was everything his soul had been vainly _trying_ to miss while he'd been stuck up here in Heaven alone. Next to what Cas had been through, he hadn't 'suffered' anything, but there were sure as hell things he'd done without, things he'd been afraid he'd never have again.

When he started to move it was slow, a barely discernible rise and fall. Right now, staying connected was more important. He could feel the muscles in Cas's arms clench as his fingers tightened in the sheets, and dipped his head to bite gently at his shoulder. "Want your hands."

Castiel shook his head once, tried to find words in between harsh breaths. "I don't want to-"

"You're not gonna hurt me. Just…please. Please." Rough or not, he _needed_ his touch right now, and he gasped when Cas finally understood and gave in, his hands curling around Dean's ribs to ease his movement. His grip was just the wrong side of too hard, and Dean knew he was gonna have the bruises to show for tomorrow, but he didn't care. Relearning anything close to tenderness after centuries in hell- that had to be damn hard. As far as he was concerned, Cas was fucking flying past every progress point, and he'd have this down in no time. In the meantime, he'd just hope that the rules of Heaven would apply to this in the same way he'd been able to hide his porn from his parents in plain sight the last few years. If Dean didn't want Cas to see the bruises on his skin, maybe he wouldn't.

Cas was moving with him, keeping their bodies pressed together. He moved in for a kiss, and Dean forgot about breathing for the length the time Cas spent mimicking sex with his mouth. When Dean came it wasn't hard, but it was earth shattering in a much quieter way, leaving him shuddering and limp against Cas's chest while Cas held him still for the last few thrusts that would send him over the edge as well. Dean's name was on his lips then, and he repeated it as he coaxed Dean to lift up and pull off of him, then pulled him back down in his lap and held him crushingly close.

Just close enough that Dean couldn't turn and see the look on his face, and even half out of it, Dean was pretty sure that was what Cas wanted. He smoothed his hands over Dean's back, and Dean had almost gotten used to the way his name sounded in this familiar voice all over again when Cas trailed off into momentary silence, tucking his head against Dean's shoulder before he spoke again.

"Thank you," he said.

Dean wasn't even sure he'd heard it at first, but once he was, he struggled a little, trying to pull back. Yeah, wasn't happening. He relaxed, tightened his arms around Cas's neck and let his forehead rest against his shoulder. "For what?" Honestly, it could've been a million things. And hell, much as he was usually averse to it himself, talking was gonna be something else Cas needed to learn how to do. Before, Cas had always been the one to start important conversations, and Dean was gonna have to learn how to do that himself until Cas was ready to take those particular reins back from him. Maybe he could get some advice from Sam.

"He said you'd kill me if you ever saw me. That you were up here fucking your dream girl and forgetting I existed."

"There's no dream girl, Cas. Not for a long time now." As in, since before he met Cas. Long, _long_ ass time.

"Yes, I know. So… thank you. For proving him wrong."

"Any time."

Castiel slid down in the bed, pulling Dean with him, and when Dean settled in a little more comfortably at his side, he found the room turning pitch black. He could deal with that, if Cas needed to not let him see his face. He was no stranger to hiding his emotions either. Honestly, considering how much of a miracle Cas actually being here with him was, any normal (or not so normal) problems they had from here on out were gonna seem like a fuckin' cake walk.

"I told Sam we could talk to him tomorrow." Silence, and he realized door #2 of waiting a day or so was the better option. "Or we could take a drive in the Impala."

"I'd like that, Dean." He lay his head down against Cas's chest, warm and real, with a steady heartbeat underneath.

"You know, I always wanted to take you to a baseball game. Maybe we'll do that." It would happen perfectly, he knew. They'd drive just long enough, and when he was starting to think a cold beer and juicy hot dog sounded fantastic, they'd be pulling up to Wrigley Field. He'd been an on and off Cubs fan, sure, but the stadium was just perfect. And they'd sit down and watch a game played by the all star team he and Sam had built up in their heads years ago.

Even with the awesomeness of that considered, he still remembered that he needed to talk to Michael about dialing down the 'perfect,' 'cause at the moment he _should've_ been feeling like he needed a good shower, but he didn't. Little inconveniences like that were things it'd be nice to keep, things that would make it feel like they were alive, even if they weren't.

"Baseball, hm?" Castiel's voice vibrated against his ear, low and a little amused.

"Yeah. You ever watch baseball?"

"No. But my vessel was a Yankees fan."

"Oh, now _that's_ just wrong."

They both laughed, the sound carrying out Dean's half open window into the summer air. There was a full moon over the town that should've been Lawrence, and in an open field near Missouri's house, Wrigley field was forming, gleaming and new.

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